#sure ill reblog this here too

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Horse Yaoi trotted so Horsegirl Yuri could fly.

[beeboomachine]

Hi! Wow! I made a sideblog for my poetry: @beeboomachine-poems ! If you like my poetry or are interested in checking it out, why not pop over there and take a look?

(at the time of writing this ive only posted one cause its brand new but im gonna rb the poems originally posted on this blog to there)

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[onlymingyus]

Fatal Trouble

pairing; lee jihoon x f!reader 

genre; fantasy, heavy angst, mild horror, slow burn, smut (minor dni), toxic, fluff 

summary; where others would steal, bargain, or kill to live the life that jihoon had, he knew the truth. a charmed life was often a cursed one. 

content warnings; prince!jihoon, princess!reader, both the reader and jihoon’s parents are mentioned/in the fic, duke!mingyu, mild love triangle, jealousy, based on the beauty and the beast, beast!jihoon, some ideas have been borrowed from damsel, royalty au, time period not stated but not modern, curses, pregnancy/miscarriage scares, blood, mauling, murder/death, loss of parent(s), arranged marriage, crying, arguing, mental struggles, vivid descriptions of wounds/shifting, poor use of french, especially old french (i apologize). I am sure there are more—this is a very heavy fic. if there is anything glaring I missed, message me. (patreon will have additional warnings)

smut warnings; multiple smut scenes, virgin!reader, mild Dom/sub themes, dubcon leaning noncon briefly, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), handjob, pet names, crying (pleasure and not) — as always I’m sure I’m missing something, send me a message if it’s glaring. (patreon will have additional warnings)

w/c; 47k and some change (50k~ with patreon bonus)

once upon a time collab masterlist 

fatal trouble - enhypen 

a/n; thank you to @nothoughtsjustfic for putting together this collab. this has been a lot of fun and incredibly challenging all at the same time. also a huge thank you to @junkissed for proofreading this beast (pun intended). I know you are incredibly busy and you still managed to carve out a little time for me, I appreciate it more than you know. 

French word bank: Monseigneur - title for prince, Madame - title female royalty (queen/princess), Madame La Reine - title for queen, Monsieur - title male royalty (duke), Maman - mother, Mon fils - son, Mon amor- my love, Mon ange - my angel

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

1

He knew they were trying to keep the truth from him. Jihoon wasn’t sure why at this point. His mother liked to pretend that if you didn’t speak about something, you could pretend it didn’t happen. Jihoon knew all too well that not saying something didn’t make nightmares disappear. 

The bile was rising in his throat as he watched the men shift the girl’s bloody arm under the white sheet. She had been exceptionally pretty and incredibly naive. She had truly believed this was her dream come true. She was going to become the Queen of Aetherial Grove. She was changing the lives of her tiny little no-name kingdom... At least half of that was true. 

“Monseigneur…” 

Jihoon hadn’t realized he had stopped walking or that he was staring. Even as Wonwoo spoke to him, the prince kept his eyes down on the ground. Jihoon was beginning to look ill. Over the past few months, the stress of everything around him had only made his usual ordeal all that much worse. Wonwoo knew and saw everything in the palace, but watching Jihoon now he could see his sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes that were only highlighting how pale he had become. 

“Monseigneur? Prince Jihoon?” 

The droplets of blood were like a trail of guilt for Jihoon as he watched the girl’s body being taken from the courtyard. He could hear Wonwoo’s voice, but the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of his own heart beating rapidly were drowning it out until the moment that the Steward placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder. “What? What do—stop coddling me.” 

Lifting his shoulders to shrug the man’s hand from him, Jihoon swallows the bile from his throat and leans his head back towards the sky. It was a cloudy day in the Aetherial Grove. If Jihoon had to be out of the palace, these were the days he preferred. The sunshine hurt his sensitive eyes and reminded him that most nights he hadn’t slept as much as he or anyone else would have hoped he had. 

“My apologies, monseigneur. You just looked lost in your thoughts, I—” Wonwoo knew that he wasn’t fooling anyone, but especially not Jihoon. He could see the disdainful look on his face as he finally met his eyes. “I just wanted to bring you back to the present. Nothing here was worth your concern and your mother wanted to meet with you in the queen’s salon.” 

There was nothing else in the world that Jihoon would rather do less than speak with his mother after what had just occurred, and yet he knew—as always—he didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Ah, I see. Well, I won’t keep the queen waiting then. I’m present and accounted for, Wonwoo; you’ve done your job well, as always.” With a roll of his eyes, Jihoon sighs out the last of his words, turning on his heel and turning back up the steps towards the large front doors of the palace he had the unfortunate privilege to call home. Where others would steal, bargain, or kill to live the life that Jihoon had, he knew the truth. A charmed life was often a cursed one. 

“It’s entirely unfortunate. If they ask for a cause, we say what we always do—” 

“That she died of disease?” 

Jihoon’s mother was a beautiful woman. In her youth, the queen had been regarded as one of the most stunning women in any surrounding kingdom to Aetherial Grove, and that was what brought her here and to her husband. While age hadn’t taken her beauty, stress had begun to show around her eyes and lips as, with each backhand comment from Jihoon, she found a new line forming from frustration. 

“Yes, mon fils, because that is precisely what happened to that poor girl.”  

Of course it was. That was what had happened to every single ill-fated princess who had made her way into Jihoon’s life. Scoffing under his breath, Jihoon moves to the large windows, feeling his mother’s eyes linger on him for a moment longer. She was frustrated; her annoyance was palpable in the air. 

“We persevere and try aga—”

“You can’t be serious, maman. When is enough, enough?” Jihoon didn’t allow his mother time to answer his question as she shifted on her chair. He knew the right answer and the answer he would receive. “I’m done with this.” 

The air in the room had gone stagnant as the tension rose between them. There was only so much that she could handle before she would snap, and Jihoon was walking that line. “Well, darling, that isn’t a choice you simply get to make, is it?” In the queen’s mind, Jihoon might be struggling with the adjustments he was having to make, but his life—this life that they all lived—was worth all of it. It was worth a few mishaps. “This isn’t about you, Jihoon. Your father is struggling; don’t you care? It’s your job—no, it’s your duty to step up and accept your position, and you are acting like an insolent child because, why? A few girls we barely knew didn’t fit in.” There were more important things to be concerned about in his mother’s mind than things that were now part of the past. 

“Wonwoo, dear? Make sure that the room is in perfect condition for our beautiful new princess, won’t you?” 

The bile was back in Jihoon’s throat. He could hear the faint roaring of what could be mistaken as his blood in his ears once again, but he knew that wasn’t what it was. No, that rumble was too familiar and terrified him. He was angry, and he wasn’t the only one that was taking notice. Inside of Jihoon was his family's greatest tragedy and well-kept secret. While he had been told his entire life that it had never been his fault, every time that he woke up with blood on his hands and face, he would need to be convinced again. 

The great kingdom of Aetherial Grove was full of wealth and prosperity, not just for the royal family but their subjects. While those around them seemed to fall into debt and ruin over the years, Aetherial Grove seemed to have never faltered. That was far from the truth. Those who truly knew the history of the kingdom would know that Aetherial Grove grew from nothing and not without immense challenges. That was all until Jihoon’s family took the throne and suddenly the challenges were gone, seemingly bringing the kingdom into the sun and good fortune. 

What had really happened not only changed the lives of everyone in Aetherial Grove, but Jihoon’s life in particular. Jihoon’s father had been a young king with a barren wife. His kingdom had been on the brink of complete collapse when a beautiful man with a charming smile offered him a solution. He would grant the King everything he ever wanted if the King promised him a favor. It seemed simple, and it had been until Jihoon’s father let the wealth and power go to his head, and then the man had come back requesting his favor. 

“Such a pretty wife, Sire... and she’s with child? So far along. My blessings to you both.” 

The words had seemed like a threat more than anything. Where the man seemed to be offering his well wishes, the glint in his eye told Jihoon’s father there was something amiss. “She is, and we thank you.” 

“As you should. It was by my will that it came to be, and what was given can be taken away.” The beautiful man’s smile that had seemed charming at first now seemed so sinister. “I’ve come to collect my favor, Sire.” 

“I’m certain that you have, but I fear I have noth—” 

“You have more than enough. Look around you; all that I have helped you to attain. Yet you lie to me and say you have nothing? Are you attempting to renege on our agreement, Sire?” The man appeared more snakelike than human as his eyes moved along the pretty queen’s face and down to the swell of her stomach. “I wouldn’t suggest it. Allow me to stay in the palace until I wish to part. Be that in days, months, years, or until I die.”  

While the king knew in his heart that the man was right and that all that was around him was due in thanks to the deal he had made with the man, his pride couldn't allow him to admit it. How would he explain to his servants or subjects who this man was that he was allowing to walk around freely in his palace? What could this lithe man do to him? The king was a man of immense power and fortitude. So instead of folding and showing any respect to him, the king scoffed and held his queen closer. “I owe you nothing. You’ll leave us at once.”

“Is that so? Do you know what happens when you don’t keep your promises? What happens when you let your ego think for you?” While the man knew what the answer from the king would be, he took a step forward only to feel the guard’s weapon at his chest to keep him back. He knew that something that weak and simple wouldn’t stop him if he truly wanted to harm any of them, but for the sake of peace in the moment, he took no further steps and chose to speak instead. “You’d rather sacrifice something other than your pride? That’s fine. Act like a beast and receive one.” 

Before the king could even open his mouth to question what the man’s words meant, at his side the queen gasped in pain, feeling a cramp in her stomach. There had been no complications with her pregnancy, and the child had been a miracle—perhaps too much of one. "Darling, what’s wrong?” 

Taking a step back, the man smirks to himself as he watches the king move to his knee at the woman’s side as she sobs and shakes her head in confusion. “She will survive. Everyone will, for now. We will see if he harbors your pride, Sire. I have my doubts. I’ll take my leave.” 

The king wanted to question the man, have him detained, and get to the bottom of his words, but one more fearful scream from his wife had him terrified. Jihoon had been born a month early and thought to be stillborn for a full ten minutes until, by another miracle, he let out a frantic scream as if brought back from the dead. 

His mother’s voice had become ringing in his ears as Jihoon rested his head against his hand, attempting to force the roaring in his ears to stop. It wasn’t until she was on her feet and talking about moving out the previous girl’s things that Jihoon groaned under his breath, loudly bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “Isabelle. She has—had a name. They all have names, maman.” 

“Obviously, Jihoon. I’m aware she had—” 

“Isabelle, Lia, Haeun, Elise, Baili, Krista, Ara, Gret—” 

“Stop it!” 

While it was rare for Jihoon’s mother to raise her voice—to truly yell—today she had. She was tired of hearing the names. She didn’t need to hear their names again. Their names didn’t matter to her. “It’s all unfortunate, Jihoon; I’m aware! Mon fils…” Carefully lifting her hands, she cups Jihoon’s face and meets his eyes, seeing the pain behind them. That was why she pushed as hard as she did. He was always alone; not even her company would ever be enough, and eventually, like his father was now, she would die. How could she leave her son alone? How could she leave him alone with his secret? With their secret? “It’s not your fault.” 

The words he hated more than any others. That was the prettiest lie and the most frequent lie that his mother told him. She had told him that same one time and time again over the span of his life. Resting his hand on her arm, Jihoon closes his eyes and furrows his brows tightly to attempt to hide his frustration as he spoke through gritted teeth. “It is, so please, maman... Don’t make me try this again. I don’t need a wife.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jihoon’s tears trail over her fingers, and his mother’s heart breaks once again. She had lost count on how many times she had felt that feeling since the man who had cursed them had come into their house. While Jihoon’s curse was much worse, this was hers. She had to watch her son live in pain. “Your father is dying, Jihoon, and you need a queen.” 

2

You knew that one day someone would arrange for your hand and you would have to leave your family and your kingdom. However, the day that it happened, you weren’t sure you could have ever been prepared for it. A man had shown up at your family’s small palace in Thornwood, and you had never seen someone who looked more out of place. He had handed your father a letter, and you had watched pride and happiness wash over your father’s face before his eyes landed on you. That was the moment your life changed forever. 

Deep down, you knew that this arrangement was a good thing. Even in just the couple of weeks since your father had received the letter, things had changed dramatically, not just for your family but for your kingdom as a whole. Thornwood had been struggling. In your memory, you couldn’t remember a time when the kingdom hadn’t been in a time of suffering, but things had only gotten worse over the past few years. 

Waters once rich with fish were now seemingly empty and the crop fields were barren. There wasn’t enough money in the entire kingdom to make any changes that were deemed necessary, much less keep everyone fed, so that was why when the letter came, it had been to everyone else, a miracle. To you, it was your worst nightmare. You had to leave the kingdom you loved more than yourself and marry someone you didn’t know and that you didn’t love. The only thing that made the weight of the price worth it; it was the dowry already being spent towards the benefit of your kingdom. 

“That is what duty is, my love. Sacrifice is difficult, but the reward is great.” 

Your father’s words looped in your ear as you now stood in front of great golden gates in the Aetherial Grove. You had heard so much and yet so little about this kingdom and its prince. He was a mystery and their were horror stories to match the amount of fairytales that came from the forest that acted as a gate around the kingdom. While you didn’t heed much credit to gossip or tales, you couldn’t help but think of them now as the servants unloaded your luggage and the gates began to open on your future. 

“I’ve heard the prince is a cruel but handsome man.” 

“No way! He’s a prince; he has to be charming and kind.” 

“But dear, Y/N... stay out of the woods. Did you hear about the beast of Aetherial Grove? So many women have gone missing. Or at least that’s the story.” 

“Don’t listen to silly stories! Your prince will keep you safe. I mean, your king! Oh my goodness, Y/N, you’re going to be a queen!” 

Those had been the last things you had heard from your cousins, as they had helped you pack your things. You had never cared enough about wanting to be a queen of anywhere, not even of Thornwood and now you were being thrust into a completely new world and expected to rule. You could feel your breakfast churning in your stomach as the handsome butler ushered you forward and spoke, though you barely listened to what he said, your mind a whirl of anxiety. 

“Madame Y/N, we are so honored to have you here.” 

The man named Soonyoung kept speaking, explaining other servant’s names, but none of them stuck with you because you were unable to focus on anything the moment you stepped foot inside the palace. The room was massive; it felt like an echo chamber. Every spoken word reverberated back into your ears like a bomb that made you feel unsteady on your feet and no one seemed to notice at first until a kind hand rested on your forearm. 

“Madame… are you alright?” 

The color in your skin had gone wrong. Jieun could see the chillbumps rising on your arms as you swayed ever so slightly along with Soonyoung’s words. It wasn’t like her to act out of turn, but she was happy she had put her hand on you when she did and saw the discomfort in your eyes. 

“No. I feel like I’m going to be sick.” 

Those words got everyone in motion. You hadn’t wanted so much attention and yet at the mention of being ill, you found yourself on a sofa with your feet up and a wet cloth on your forehead as the pretty girl who had first spoken to you watched over you closely. 

“Perhaps we could let Madame rest? I can stay with her and we can finish the tour when she is feeling like herself again.” 

Soonyoung wanted to argue with Jieun and tell her that there wasn’t time for all of the drama, but one more look at you and the pitiful look on your face had him agreeing. “I will let the monseigneur know what’s happening. Find me as soon as she’s feeling better.” 

The silence that followed the moment that Soonyoung closed the door behind him left you with a sigh of relief and put a smile on Jieun’s face. “I’m sure that is a welcomed change, Madame. I apologize for overwhelming you. I’m sure between your travels and—” 

“I’m alright, I promise. Could—would it be wrong of me to ask you to just call me Y/N? Your name is Jieun, right?” 

The apprehension was clear on Jieun’s face, but there was something about you that made her agree. She knew that if the queen heard her call you anything other than a proper title, she would be reprimanded, but it was nice to be treated differently—similar to an equal—for once. 

“Yes, Mada—Y/N. That’s my name. I—I’m actually the monseigneur’s cousin.” A shy smile pulls at her lips and Jieun shifts closer to you to adjust the cloth on your forehead. “We will be family soon." You can’t help but notice how her brows furrow even slightly and how she swallows hard, using her thumb to keep the cloth from your eyes. “Hopefully. I—as long as you and the monseigneur find no disagreements with the arrangement, I mean.” 

It was such a peculiar choice of words for Jieun to use in your opinion, but instead of questioning her, you choose to offer her a smile and nod. “Oh, that’s lovely. I’m certain that as long as I meet his standards, we can move along with the marriage. They’ve already paid—” Pressing your lips together, realizing how crass you sound in your words, you wrinkle your nose and try again. “A generous dowry was offered and accepted. My kingdom is very appreciative of this arrangement. It’s a duty I’m happy to uphold.” 

Jieun knew how this worked. She had done this so many times, with so many other women and yet as she sat with you like this now, it was the first time it made her heart ache. You were too good for this. She feared for you. “I’m certain you are... I—however, I know this isn’t my place, mada—Y/N, but may I offer some advice as a resident of Aetherial Grove?” Giving a quick glance to the door before avoiding your eyes directly, Jieun speaks through a strained smile. “Keep your head down and please stay out of the forest. Don’t go out at night.” 

The warning seems genuine, perhaps a sweet word for someone who might be afraid of the dark until you laugh under your breath and Jieun’s gaze finally meets yours. You can see just how serious she is, how her nose flairs and how she looks from the door once again and back to you whispering please before adding once again, “Don’t go out at night, Y/N.” 

Jieun’s words, much like your father’s, were echoing in your mind as you finally were being led through the palace with the girl by your side. She had seemed so sincere, and yet the moment that Soonyoung had returned to check on you, a facade had gone back up. You were no longer Y/N; you were once again Madame and now you were being led to what would become your rooms. 

“Until the wedding and after the coronation, of course. I’m sure you understand. The rooms are a bit smaller than the queen’s, but I hope they will suit you.” 

You weren’t sure what Soonyoung thought you were used to as you looked around the spacious rooms. If you chose to, you wouldn’t have to see anyone else in the palace. You had an entire wing to yourself and servants that would answer directly to you, including Jieun. Of course, you knew that your choice wasn’t your own and there would be no staying in your rooms and being alone. 

“This is wonderful—more than I could possibly ever n—”

“Soonyoung!” 

The raised voice made your heart begin to race instantly. While there had been a lot of voices and too much commotion around your arrival, no one had raised their voice once since you had arrived—that was until this man. You watch as Soonyoung swallows hard and rubs his lips together as if to steady himself before he turns towards the open doors to your salon and towards a handsome man dressed only like who you could assume to be royalty. This couldn’t be—

“Monseigneur…” 

Too soon. You had arrived far too quickly for Jihoon’s liking. They had barely gotten Isabelle’s things out of this room before they were moving yours in. Jihoon’s head was busting, his stomach was in knots, and you looked like a fragile doll ready to be broken with eyes wide with fear. 

“Keep her away from me; is that understood?” 

While Jihoon was speaking much quieter now, you could still make out his words as Soonyoung shuffled closer to him. You could so clearly see that there was a disdain for you written on the prince’s face and yet he hadn’t said a word to you. This was the first time he had seen you. Did he even know your name? 

Stepping forward, you hear Jieun mutter madame under her breath as you clear your throat and offer Jihoon a soft smile. “No, it’s okay, Jieun. Monseigneur?” Ignored. Jihoon barely shifts his eyes towards you, tilting his head almost like a wounded animal when you take another step in his direction. “Prince Jihoon… I’m—” 

“Y/N Y/L/N, of the Kingdom of Thornwood. Yes, I’m aware of your name. I’m busy, as you can see, madame.” He knew he was being cruel from the getgo, but that look of shock in your eyes was better than seeing you dead on the forest ground. “Soonyoung, with me. I have things to do. Good day, Madame.” 

3

It had been two months since you had arrived in Thornwood. While others seemed overjoyed by this fact, you were growing more miserable every single day. There had been times when Jihoon had been forced to be in the same room with you or to be at events with you, but otherwise he had spoken no more than a dozen words since your arrival. 

Today was no different. Today was the official public announcement of your engagement to the prince. Apparently no flaws had been found in you—he had deemed you good enough and you would get to suffer by his side until you died. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” 

At least you had Jieun and moments of privacy where you had a bit of normalcy. Smiling at the girl in the mirror. You lift the bracelet from the vanity in front of you as Jieun adds finishing touches to your makeup. “I don’t feel beautiful, but thank you.” 

Jieun could see the changes that had been slowly occurring in you since your arrival. Your smile was different. Your light was different. You were becoming resigned to a life of loneliness and while it wasn’t fair... perhaps that was the sacrifice you and Jihoon would both have to make in order to make this marriage work. This was the farthest that any of the women had ever made it. Some had gotten scared off in hours, some injured in the matter of days, and others killed after a week. You were sad but alive after two months. That was a triumph to be celebrated. 

“Then I will work harder. Make sure you look even more gorgeous in your dress for the party. Your bracelet is a very good choice.” 

You admired Jieun’s resilience. She was easily your closet friend in the kingdom and to say that you valued her presence would be an understatement. Smiling at the piece of jewelry now around your wrist, you run your fingertips over the closed clasp and think back to the moment that it was given to you just days before you had left Thornwood. “Mm, it is beautiful. It was a gift from a dear friend. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him.” There was something beautiful and gut wrenching about the twisted golden thorns circling your wrist. The design was so delicate and yet in it’s simplicity, you felt a pang of home sickness. 

“Oh? I—it wasn’t my place.” 

Lowering your arm into your lap, you smile at Jieun in the mirror as you shake your head. You knew it was a bold choice to wear the bracelet. It wasn’t a gift from your betrothed, and yet you hadn’t received a gift from Jihoon. You had little fear that he would even notice a bracelet on your wrist anymore than he would notice you in the room for longer than he had to. “It’s fine, Jieun. No harm done. I’ll have something to far outshine it soon enough, won’t I?” 

Your words seem to ease Jieun’s mind, but they only cause yourself to spiral. You can already feel the weight of the ring on your finger and wonder if that weight will be worth the price. 

In his own room, Jihoon was thinking much the same. He had already felt the weight of the box in his jacket pocket and it felt as if it weighed an impossible amount. It wasn’t his life that he felt that he was ruining, but yours. 

He had gone out of his way to avoid you over the past two months. It had been equally as difficult as it had been easy. His mother was furious with him and his behavior, and yet you were still breathing and now you were going to be officially named as his future queen. All that he had done had been for the sake of his kingdom and, in his own twisted way, for you. 

It wasn’t that Jihoon didn’t have a desire to know you. You were stunning. He had found many of the other women who had been brought to the palace beautiful, but the first day you had been brought in, he knew that he was in trouble. You were a breath of fresh air with how you lit up the room until he spoke you with such unkind words and he watched your smile fade. It was a hefty price to pay to keep you at a distance, but a distance was safe. At a distance, he could observe and yearn. There was no true danger in that as long as you followed the rules. 

You were as intelligent as you were beautiful. Jihoon knew about all of the books you were requesting in the palace library. If they happened to not be found, he made sure they were the next time you had them in your mind. He knew that you loved fresh air, and as terrified as that made him, as long as it was during the daylight hours, he would permit it. So one day you woke to learn that there were horses at your disposal in the palace stable. 

And yet, with all the things that Jihoon tried to provide for you, he watched your spirit diminish daily. You made friends with the staff easily, despite knowing that the queen wouldn’t like it. In that way, you were much like him and that made it even easier for him to learn about how truly depressed you were. 

Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, Jihoon stretches his arm out, allowing Soonyoung to adjust his sleeves as he listens to Junhui, the palace chef, explain the menu for the night’s event. 

“Duck confit served with roasted potatoes, cauliflower gratin—” 

“Tell me again what she said, Junhui.” 

This was the third time that Junhui had attempted to make his way through the entirety of the menu for the prince to interrupt him and want to talk about you. While he enjoyed having you in the palace and your frequent visits to his kitchen, at the moment he wished he had never divulged that information to Jihoon. Sighing into his words, Junhui lowers his head before lifting it once again to meet Jihoon’s eyes in the mirror. “Why are you obsessing over it?” 

“You know why.” Shaking out his hand, Jihoon scowls at Soonyoung and Junhui each as he turns from the mirror, deeming himself dressed. “I’m—this is happening tonight and then in less than a month she’ll be my wife. She hates me—” 

“Because you want her to, Jihoon.” It was Soonyoung who spoke up this time. He knew that if this were anyone else in the palace, they would be reprimanded for how they spoke to Jihoon, but he had been chosen to be his butler for a reason. He was the same age as the prince. They had grown up in the palace together, as close as brothers could be without sharing blood. He knew every detail of Jihoon’s secrets and regrets. “You purposely hurt her to keep her awa—” 

“And she’s alive! For fuck’s sake, Soonyoung. What would you have me do? Waltz into her salon and profess my affection? Tell her about what I am." Scoffing into his words, Jihoon tugs roughly on the lapels of his expensive jacket, feeling the threads shift at his strength. “My darling, Y/N... I regret to inform you of my terrible curse. I’ll never be able to show you true affection, dear, out of fear that I might remove your windpipe with my teeth.” 

With Jihoon’s words, you could have heard a pin drop at how silent the room had gone. He knew what Soonyoung and Junhui wanted to say to him—the same thing everyone always did; this wasn’t his fault. Jihoon knew all too well that it was his fault. He couldn’t control the beast and that was his fault. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

4

Your life was now one massive echo chamber. As you stood in the middle of the ballroom with people moving around you, it was as if nothing that was being said made it to your ears. Instead of intelligible words, you found muffled and warbling phrases muddling together as you nodded along. The only thing keeping you grounded to the marble under your heels was the champagne flute in your fingers that kept being refilled. 

“Such a handsome couple. Truly, we are blessed. Think of the children she will bless the kingdom with.” 

Jihoon couldn’t even find it in himself to force a fake smile as members of his extended family regarded you like well-kept livestock. He knew the duty to the kingdom. His was to become king and to take a queen, and that was why you were even in this room and near him in the first place, but the fact that they expected him to put a child in you. How was he going to be able to—The bile was sitting in his throat. It was too close to dark and Jihoon could feel the rumbling in his head as he dug his nails into his palm as you shifted closer to him to get out of someone’s way. 

“My apologies, monseigneur.” 

Your voice was so small that it made the hair on Jihoon’s neck stand up. He could smell the champagne on your breath and he couldn’t help how his eyes moved over your beautiful face and down your frame. Taking a calming breath, Jihoon shakes his head and carefully removes the flute from your fingers, placing it on a tray as a servant passes by. “Quite enough. They are trying to keep you inebriated and pliant. You’ll be sick in the morning.” 

Wrinkling your nose to Jihoon’s hushed words, you meet his eyes and barely hold back a scoff. You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you were four glasses of champagne in and it made the night feel less like hell. “As you wish.” The room was too loud without something in your hand, without your distraction. You could hear the gossip now. You could hear the compliments and their halfhearted meanings, but you were better at putting on a fake smile. “Mm, can—will you give me my ring now?” 

You just wanted to get this over with. Somehow that both broke Jihoon’s heart and brought him back to reality. He had made you this way. It was a fair question. You had endured a couple of hours of this and he had been watching the sun slowly fading behind the trees for the last half hour. “As you wish.” 

The sound of Jihoon clearing his throat brought a hush over the room. You watch as he puts on the first fake smile of the night while opening and closing his fist at his side out of nerves. “Thank you, each of you for spending the evening with us. On behalf of myself and Madame Y/N, we wanted to let you know how deeply grateful we are that you could share this important moment with us.” 

Jihoon was good at lying and yet as you watched him, transfixed on his frustratingly handsome face, you realized you knew he was lying through his teeth. There was something about his body language—the way his voice went up and down in octaves as he went through his well-practiced speech. He had planned places for people to laugh, for them to aww and coo; he was a puppet master working the strings so well, but you could see the strings for what they were just as well as you saw the pain in his eyes. 

“It’s an exciting day.” Smiling along with the happy laughter, Jihoon looks down at this jacket to find you watching him carefully. You are the only one who sees his facade break for a moment as he takes the ring box from his jacket and you are the only one who sees how his fingers tremble with fear as he removes the delicate ring. “A gi—gift for my beautiful betrothed...” 

The stuttering of his words is the first real indication to everyone in the room that Jihoon might be breaking and at the first sign of a muttered word, you aren’t sure why it puts you into motion, but it does. A wave of desire to protect the man in front of you from anything, including anxiety or embarrassment, puts a smile on your face and has your left hand lifted towards Jihoon’s hand. “And what a stunning gift it is, monseigneur. I’m truly honored that I’ll share my life with you.” 

You were a beautiful liar. Jihoon could see and almost smell the lie on you, but he was so thankful to you as he slid the diamond ring on to your finger. Your eyes kept him steadfast and calm as the rest of the room erupted in cheers. Not even the rumble in his ears and tingling at the back of his neck stood a chance in that moment as Jihoon leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles, keeping his eyes locked with yours. 

There was a shift in the air with that kiss. A breath of hope filled your lungs seeing the look in Jihoon’s eyes. Would things finally change? Could you find a way to love your new home and your soon-to-be husband? 

Fingers wrap around yours as Jihoon laughs under his breath, accepting well wishes for you both. You are thankful for him keeping you grounded, much like your champagne had once been. You find yourself even more thankful when he excuses you both under the excuse that you are tired and he must allow his beautiful fiancée to get her rest. 

“Oh, thank God. I felt like I was going to suffocate—” 

The moment the doors shut behind you and Jihoon, you feel his hand drop from yours, leaving you feeling confused and cold. You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair and rocks his head from left to right as if to release the tension in his neck before he turns his attention back to you with a now familiar disappointed look on his face. 

“Go to your room, Y/N. It’s going to be night soon.” 

This was all you were getting from Jihoon after such a touching moment? Where had the man who had slipped the ring on your finger and looked so deeply into your eyes gone? “I—I’m not tired, ye—” 

“And I don’t care. This isn’t about your ability to sleep. Do as you are told.” It was getting harder to keep himself calm as you scoffed at him. Jihoon could see your lips moving; he could hear the dull mumble of your words, but it was difficult to make out the words. Something else was talking over his senses and Jihoon knew that this wasn’t going to be a good night. “Shut up, for the love of God. I put that fucking ring on your finger so you will obey me! Go to your goddamn room and lock the door, Y/N!” 

Stunned by Jihoon’s outburst, you stumble back on your heels in an attempt to get away, only to feel your balance waver. Fingers wrap tightly around your wrist above your bracelet and you meet Jihoon’s angry eyes, noticing for the first time a slight shift in their color. His once dark brown eyes seem golden as he looks from your face down to the bracelet, his lips curling in anger. “I told you that you drank too much... And what the fuck is this?” 

“Leave me alone, Jihoon.” 

Once again, your voice was soft and too small, almost breaking Jihoon’s heart, but he wasn’t the one that you were dealing with anymore. The jealousy flaring in him wasn’t a normal occurrence; this side of him came with the predator that was ready to run free with the moon rising in the sky. 

“I’ll do what I want since you seem to do the same.” Using just the strength in his fingers, Jihoon breaks the fragile clasp of your bracelet, ignoring your sobbing pleas for him to stop. You both watch as the gold thorns slip from your wrist and clatter to the ground at Jihoon’s feet. “Now, obey me.” 

Tears streaked your cheeks and down your neck as you leaned against the door of your room. Clutching the broken bracelet to your chest, you sob openly, wondering if the sound you are hearing—the wailing growl—is coming from you or your imagination. By the time that you are calm enough to think clearly, the sound is gone. You find yourself alone and numb, with pieces of your home shattered in your hand, much like your heart inside your chest. 

5

It was too bright. There was the smell of copper in his nose and Jihoon’s body felt as if he had been trampled by a stampede of horses. Turning onto his back, he rests his forearm over his eyes and groans, the now too familiar feeling of the forest floor under his bare back. 

Everything had happened too quickly and Jihoon had barely made it off the palace grounds before his body had been torn apart by his curse. It hurt every single time, and every time he could remember it in detail. He supposed that was the point. A curse wasn’t meant to be pleasant. He was being punished. His family was being punished. That was why his muscles were torn fiber by fiber, his bones broken bit by bit, and his skin ripped until nothing human was left of him—only the beast. 

To anyone looking at him, unknowing what they were seeing, Jihoon would look like a bear. A great, large black bear with golden brown eyes that had tormented Aetherial Grove from the moment that he had reached puberty. His mother and father had thought that the man’s curse had been a lie. Perhaps his threat had been that Jihoon almost died during childbirth, but no, it was much worse. Instead, they had witnessed their precious son shifting into a monster and slaughtering half of their palace staff after becoming slightly upset. 

What was worse about Jihoon’s curse was the morning after the beast would take hold of him. Not only would his body feel as if it had been in fact torn apart at the very fiber, but he could remember down to the second what the beast had done. He could see every person he had killed or mauled but he had no way to prevent it. No matter how hard Jihoon tried, every single princess would wander out of the palace at night due to stupidity or curiosity and each time the beast would claim them. 

That was why Jihoon treated you the way he did. That was why he kept you at a distance and made you hate him. He couldn’t kill you if you were never around him. 

“Jihoon.” 

Wincing at Soonyoung’s voice, Jihoon turns on his side and pulls his legs up towards his stomach. Of course he would already be looking for him. He was grateful, but there were days when he wished everyone would just let him vanish or let him die. Was he worth this? 

“Come on. I have clothes... I—you need to come back quickly. Your father—” This wasn’t something that Soonyoung wanted to tell Jihoon. He could already see the realization in the prince’s eyes as he took the clothes from his hand and swallowed the air as if it were water. “I’m sorry. I—” 

“Stop. I don’t want—fuck.” Jihoon’s clothes felt foreign against his skin as he quickly dressed himself, hearing his heart in his ears. This was just one more thing that the curse was taking from him. “Is he—” 

“No. No, he’s just—the doctor says before the day is over. Your mother told me to find you as quickly as possible.”  

Jihoon didn’t need to hear anything else. He didn’t want to hear anything else. He was feeling far too many emotions at once while trying not to let a single one of them bubble to the surface as he walked quickly in front of Soonyoung towards the pair of waiting horses. 

On a good day, any of the palace horses would struggle to trust Jihoon; animals were smarter than normal humans by a long shot. Today was not a good day; every tug at the horses reigns had the animal fighting for control and more terrified of what was on her back. 

“Please… I’m trying!” Yelling wasn’t helping, but Jihoon was swallowing back the bile in his throat as he saw the palace come into view at the treeline. He was so close. He just needed the horse to push forward for a little while longer—and then it happened; perhaps Jihoon had been too sharp with his heel into her flank but the horse had enough and Jihoon felt the wind knocked out of his lungs as his back met the ground. 

You knew something was off at the palace. Everyone was on edge and yet no one would tell you anything. Something had gone from the moment that the engagement party had ended, and then when you had woken up, it was worse. 

You had heard loud yet hushed muttering from every corner that would silence the moment you came into few. You weren’t privy to a single thing and yet the ring on your finger told you that you should be. Weren’t you going to be important to them? Shouldn’t you already be important? 

Outside was better. The palace always felt suffocating to you. From the first day you had walked it, not only had it become your echo chamber—every word reverberating back a thousand times into your brain—but also it had sucked the air from your lungs. You knew that Jihoon preferred you to stay inside, even during the day, but today was one of the days when you didn’t feel much like doing anything he wanted. 

The palace gardens were filled with beautiful things. Flowers, vines, trees—anything you could think of you might find in front of you and yet it made you sad as you thought back to the shards of gold now laying on your vanity. You had tried to piece back together your treasured bracelet only to make it worse. The clasp had held the delicate overlapping thorns together and when Jihoon had broken it, there was nothing left to keep them from falling apart. That was much like your heart as you had sat in front of the vanity and struggled uselessly, watching the bracelet become unrecognizable. There was only the memory of when you had received it now and you would hold it close to your heart and cherish it forever. 

You hadn’t known many boys in Thornwood. Your father was a strict king when it came to his kingdom and his daughter. It had been in your early teenage years when you had finally met Kim Mingyu and he was the first boy your father hadn’t instantly run off. 

Mingyu was the son of a duke. In your father’s eyes, perhaps one day if nothing better came along that might be a suitable match, but it was more than that—you had been happy to just have a friend. It wasn’t until you were older, months before the letter came from Aetherial Grove, that you realized something different might come from your relationship with Mingyu. While you had never considered him in that light before, there was something about the possibility that made you take a step back and really picture it only to have the picture torn in front of your face by a royal letter. 

“So, don’t make fun of it... It’s not perfect; I’ve never done work with gold before.” You had fondly watched Mingyu as he fumbled slightly with the delicate clasp of the bracelet before finally managing to secure it on your wrist. “Maybe it’s not half bad. I just wanted you to have a little piece of home while you—I mean in your new home, Princess.” 

Your piece of home and piece of your best friend was now shattered by someone you were starting to despise. Trying your best to push the angry and painful thoughts from your mind, you walk closer to the edge of the garden, looking out towards the treeline. The forest was truly beautiful. You could understand the appeal and why many wanted to explore it, though you had been forbidden to do so, even on horseback—so why was it that someone was coming out of it now? 

Squinting slightly to the brightness of the morning sun, you tilt your head before shock registers within you as you watch the horse buck hard. Your eyes follow Jihoon as he falls backwards from the horse and lands in the tall grass hidden from your view, causing your heart to sink. “Oh my god, Jihoon!” 

By the time you make it on foot to Jihoon and Soonyoung, the butler is down from his horse and on his knee beside the prince. With your hand at your stomach and tears stinging your eyes, you quickly move to the other side of Jihoon and do the same without regard to your dress or your legs as the ground bites into your knees angrily. “Jihoon? What the hell happened, Soonyoung?” 

You were different than any other woman that had come to Aetherial Grove by far. Even as Soonyoung checked over Jihoon for injuries, being careful not to move him too quickly, he watched you curiously, surprised by your quick arrival. “I—the horse got spooked, I think. She threw him. He’s—there’s blood. Mons— Jihoon?” 

Anxiety and fear had your stomach in knots as you saw the blood from the back of Jihoon’s head on Soonyoung’s fingers. Wrapping your fingers around Jihoon's, you whine his name, watching his eyelids flutter for a moment before he groans in pain and slowly opens his eyes, starting to come to. 

“Fuck—” Attempting to sit up, Jihoon hisses in pain and tightens his fingers around yours before laying back down for a moment. “Stupid fucking mare..." Jihoon knew it wasn’t the horses fault, but the pain radiating through his back and his head made him want to lash out at something. “I need to get to the palace—Father.” 

Using your free hand, you put a light amount of pressure on Jihoon’s shoulder when he tries to sit back up. “Just wait, I—please? You can wait a moment. You are bleeding, Ji—” 

“St—stop coddling me. I’m fine.” Moving his hand to wrap it around your wrist where your bracelet had been the night before, Jihoon lightly draws a circle over your pulse point with his eyes still closed. “‘M fine. I have to get to the palace. Father needs me.” 

Nothing that Jihoon was saying made sense to you, but Soonyoung simply nodded along while gently moving your hand from Jihoon’s shoulder.

“I know. Perhaps—” Timidly meeting your eyes, Soonyoung almost winces before speaking. “I could put the prince on the horse with you. I’ve seen you ride... I think—” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Soonyoung. I can do it alone.” 

“Of course.” 

When you and Jihoon speak up almost at the same time, Soonyoung looks taken aback, his eyes moving from one person to the other before he sighs and settles on the prince. “Let her help. She—Jihoon, she wants to help.” 

You shouldn’t have to help. You shouldn’t be seeing him like this, weak and flustered. He was going to be the king, your king. More importantly, as things were progressing, Jihoon was going to be your husband and now you were having to mother him already. Pathetic. Lee Jihoon was pathetic and unworthy of the throne and you. 

Without another word, Jihoon lets you and Soonyoung help him to his feet as he sways on his feet, unable to keep his balance. Lifting your hand, you carefully touch the back of his head furrowing your brows when Jihoon winces and jerks away from you in pain. “This looks—you should see the doctor, Monseigneur.” 

Your voice had started so strong and yet the more you spoke with Jihoon, your hand loosely in his, your confidence faltered. Sighing under his breath, Jihoon nods and glances towards you as you move to take the reigns of the horse that had bucked him off. With you next to her, there was a calm in the air. There was no fear in her eyes, almost as if she knew that you wouldn’t let anyone, beast or man, harm her. 

“Jihoon. Just—call me Jihoon. I don’t like when you call me Monseigneur in private. You—you’re going to be my wife. It seems odd.” 

While you agreed, you could also remember this same man reminding you that you would obey him. You offer him a gentle smile and a nod as you carefully slip your foot into the stirrup before hosting yourself into the saddle. “Of course—” Swallowing hard, you glance down at your hands on the horn of the saddle, the reigns loosely draped over your fingers. “Jihoon.” You had said his name many times, and even when you were terrified for his wellbeing, saying it now at his request felt different. 

Furrowing his brows tightly, Jihoon could feel the air around him shift. There was something about you. From the moment that you had stepped foot in Aetherial Grove, things were different. It wasn’t just that he was trying to distance himself from you; it was something else and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

With a few muttered curses and a disgruntled groan, Jihoon finds himself seated behind you with his hands hovering over your waist. You could feel the warmth of them through the layers of your dress and even the boning in your corset, so much so that it was difficult to not let a small smirk pull at your lips when you urge the horse to take a step forward and feel Jihoon finally grab ahold of you for stability. 

“May I ask you something?” 

Despite your ability to keep the horse much steadier than he had, Jihoon still found himself wincing with each step. He almost felt every stone under the horse’s hooves as you carefully directed her towards the palace. Swallowing hard to your question and tone, Jihoon chews on his cheek before glancing back to where Soonyoung was following at a moderate distance—almost too far, leaving Jihoon to defend for himself with you. 

“I suppose. Is something wrong?” He knew that was the wrong question to ask the moment it left his mouth. Closing his eyes, Jihoon leans his head back towards the sky and listens to you take in a sharp breath as the horse shifts to the right and towards the palace stables. 

Did he really want to know? You had a laundry list of things that were wrong, but that wasn’t what you wanted to ask right now. “Um, it’s not—well, in a way. I don’t wish to seem unappreciative or spoiled, but—” Sighing under your breath, you furrow your brows, deciding to start over. “What I mean is, I am just wondering if there is something about me you find unpleasant. Perhaps you are unhappy with this arrangement? I’m not attractive or intelligent enough to be your queen and in which case, Monseigneur, perha—” 

“Stop it. What are you—” Unconsciously digging his fingers into your sides at your corset, Jihoon grits his teeth, feeling the frustration rising in him. He knew this was his fault and while he hadn’t planned on changing it, he also didn’t want you as miserable as you seemed right now. “You aren’t unpleasant. I don’t—you aren’t unpleasant to me, Y/N.” 

Straightening your back out of surprise, you take in a deeper breath at the strength of Jihoon’s grip. It wasn’t just that his touch had tightened; it was how he was speaking to you. There was a layer of desperation in his voice, as if he were begging you to understand without truly saying it. “O—okay. I just—” 

“No, just nothing. You are beautiful—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You are going to make a perfect queen, I have no doubt. I—” Stopping short, Jihoon removes his hands from your waist, realizing that you have brought the horse to a stop. There was no need for him to be touching you anymore, no need for all of the dramatics and yet he couldn’t help himself as you glanced back at him, your eyes low, causing your lashes to shield your gaze from him. Resting his index finger under your chin, Jihoon sighs softly and allows himself a moment to be a man who is truly engaged looking at his future bride. “You are incredible and I hate myself for making you feel so small. One day—” 

Every word was reaching your ears and yet your heart was beating so fast and hard in your chest that you were afraid you might fall from the saddle and perish on the ground. Jihoon’s simple touch had your skin on fire and something lit inside of you—a desire that you had never felt in your life. You had come close to what you suspected had been desire—a brush of lips across yours from Mingyu—but this, Jihoon’s thumb grazing your bottom lip and watching your lips part felt private and precious.  

"Perhaps one day you’ll learn why I am—why I have kept you—” Jihoon was struggling to find the right words and he could see Soonyoung’s panicked face as the man paced a few feet away. “I have to go, Madame. Remember the rules, please. That is all I ask of you.” 

You start to speak and to argue with Jihoon. You want him to finish explaining himself, but he jumps from one topic to the next and then suddenly the back of your knuckles are against his lips. You are left watching Soonyoung help him down from the horse and your eyes follow both until they disappear behind the palace walls. 

Every part of Jihoon’s body was aching. It always was after a night of shifting, but the fall from the horse had only served to make it worse. Brushing his fingers over the back of his head, he and Soonyoung moved through the halls. Jihoon winces in pain, though his mind lingers on you and the range of emotions he had just taken you through. None of this was fair to you. He hoped and prayed that one day he might be able to explain this to you and you understood. He wished with every fiber of his being that he would be able to keep you alive, but the more he started to feel something for you, a longing, the rumbling from the beast trapped inside of him grew louder and more angry with jealousy. 

6

“Mon amour…” 

It was difficult for Jihoon to watch his mother grieve while his father took his last breaths. He was expected to stay strong and on the surface he did. He showed little to no emotion. Jihoon was a rock for his family and especially his mother, but on the inside, the son that his father had raised was devastated as he watched his father pass. He wanted nothing more than to run from the room and lock himself away in his rooms to get rid of the pressure behind his eyes. 

“Come—come here, mon fils.” Beckoning Jihoon closer, his mother sobs softly through the words before taking his hand and bringing it to her heart, using him as the anchor he would have to be. “I—mon fils.” 

Jihoon knew without his mother even saying the words what she was thinking. He knew what came next. The mourning period. The funeral and the burial, but most importantly, he would sooner rather than later now go from crown prince to king. “I know, maman. I’ll take care of it all. You should—I’ll have Jieun help you to your roo—” 

“No! Not yet. I can’t leave him, Jihoon.” 

The tears that Jihoon was trying to keep at bay were harder to push back now as his mother pulled from him and clung to his father’s arm. He didn’t understand that sort of love, though he had witnessed it through them his entire life. He hoped for that sort of love. It made him think of you and how confused you must be not knowing what was truly happening in the palace. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, maman. I know…I won’t make you leave. I’m sorry.” Brushing his lips against the top of her head, Jihoon feels his mothers grief wash through him in how her body trembles. Leaning his head back towards the ceiling as he takes a deep breath to keep his emotions at bay, he nods once and finds Wonwoo by his father’s bed with a solemn look on his face. “Stay with her, please. Until she is ready to leave, you and Jieun. I need—I have to do something.” 

Even stepping out of the room and into the hall, Jihoon could feel a bit of the weight lifting from him but what replaced it was worse. Clenching his fist over his chest, he takes a deep breath as he leans against the wall hidden from prying eyes. Somehow the anger and disappointment that he felt every day were nothing compared to the feeling he was overwhelmed with now as Jihoon tried to force himself forward towards your room. 

Everything had gone deadly silent on the side of the palace where you resided. You knew that you were a bit of distance from the king’s rooms and Jihoon’s but usually you could hear servants in the hallways going about their tasks and tending to the queen, but today there was nothing. It was making your anxiety all that much worse after the morning and your interaction with Jihoon. 

The prince was truly an enigma to you. While you wanted to hate him, and in some ways perhaps you did resent him, you couldn’t find it in your heart to truly allow yourself in your heart to hate Jihoon. There was something inside of him that wanted to be close to you. You had sensed it more than once now and even if the other part of him was pushing you away, the man who had looked deeply into your eyes and taken your breath away with a simple touch had your mind spiraling. 

Sitting at your window, you lean your head back against the wall with a book in your lap. You had started to read it hours ago now, but every word led you back to where you were now—your eyes on the trees as their leaves moved with the wind as it picked up in speed. There was a storm coming. You hated storms. You always had, but back in Thornwood you had distractions and protection. You had run to your father or mother, who would keep you close. You had let Mingyu wrap his arm around you, shielding you from the sounds—as soon as Mingyu enters your mind again, you push him out. Since the previous day's incident with your bracelet, it seemed he wouldn’t leave your thoughts alone. 

The rain starts calm, with large drops that hit your window with dull thuds but quickly, but with the wind getting stronger so does the rain. Wincing, you close your book and recoil slightly from the sounds of the water assaulting your window when a knock at your door startles you even more, causing you to gasp in surprise. 

“Y/N?” 

Jihoon knew he should wait for you to answer the door or at least speak, but the sound of your fear takes away his logic. He had asked for you to lock your door but this was one time he was glad you rarely listened to him when his eyes scanned your parlor to find you with your hands over your head sitting by your window. The pain that he had been feeling from the loss of his father is shifted to the side in place of his concern for you as Jihoon mutters your name and quickly moves across the room and kneels by your side, timidly reaching for your hands. “What’s happened? Why—are you okay?” 

Embarrassment washes over you when you realize that Jihoon is in your room, seeing you cower from a few loud noises. You are certain this isn’t who he or anyone wants for the queen. Though no one truly looked to the queen in a time of perill, you still should be able to lead and command, and here you were meeting Jihoon’s eyes, attempting to feign courage. “O–of course. I’m—nothing happ—” 

Jihoon could tell you were lying as you spoke. He had seen the times you lied and thought to some people you were a decent liar; with him, he could see right through it. Starting to call you out on it to cut you off, he doesn’t have to at the first strike of lightning and boom of thunder. The act you are putting on shatters as Jihoon watches you tightly close your eyes and visibly shake as the sound reverberates around the room. 

Storms had never bothered Jihoon; in fact, in many ways he enjoyed them. The walls of the palace made the rain louder and the thunderclaps seem to last longer, which in turn drowned out the rumbling he heard constantly. Clearly, you didn’t feel the same way. You put on a good face; it was a beautiful one and a strong one, but deep down Jihoon could see how delicate and precious you were. 

“Mon ange…” Muttering under his breath, Jihoon moves his gaze from you to the window, watching the rain angrily coming down to the earth. “I didn’t know you were afraid of storms.” Speaking loud enough for you to hear him now, he slides his hand along the back of your arm towards your elbow, trying to get your attention on him fully. “But I—” 

“You don’t know anything about me, Jihoon.” You didn’t mean to lash out at Jihoon; however, in the moment you felt raw. His words felt like needles and his touch felt foreign, because it was. No matter how much you wanted to be close to him, it was difficult to rely on someone who had spent so long pushing you away and treating you like a virus. “Wha—why are you here?” 

Your reaction to him was valid. While it stung, Jihoon understood where it came from. If Soonyoung had been there, he would agree that he brought this upon himself. Nodding along with you, he sighs and closes his hand, removing it from your arm to give you a bit of space. “I know. I—I apologize for—there’s a lot that you just don't—" Leaning his head back, Jihoon feels your eyes follow him even as he closes his eyes and takes a calming breath, feeling the waves of emotions roll over him again. “I don’t deserve your kindness with how I have treated you. There is a reason behind my actions but it’s not something I can explain to—”  

“Jihoon! You’ve been cruel. You’ve banished me to—” Wincing to another boom of thunder, you whimper and slide from the window seat into the floor next to Jihoon, feeling him shift to sit next to you. It takes a moment for you to regain your composure but he never rushes you; instead, Jihoon stays close without crowding you. “All I know are these rooms and what I have been able to explore of the palace. You won’t let me off the grounds. I try to get close to you and you get angry at me. You—” 

Tears slip down your cheeks similarly to how the rain marks the glass of your window, and all Jihoon can do is watch and listen to you falter, finally speaking through your sobs. In his mind he knew why he had made you do all of these things and why he had pushed you away but to you it made no sense. It wasn’t fair to you, just like it wasn’t fair that you never knew anything that was happening in the palace you now called your home. “There is so much I need to—Y/N… It’s difficult, but please try to understand that I have been attempting to shield you and keep you safe. I know that I have gone about it in a strange way and it’s not fair—” 

“It’s—it’s not fair! What did I do to deserve this? Why did you make me come here, Jihoon? Why me?!” Finally pulling your legs up, you lean forward and rest your forearms on your knees burying your face against your arms, letting out sobs that only get louder with each deep rumble of thunder. 

Jihoon knew that he hadn’t been the one to make you come to Aetherial Grove but he felt responsible enough. You were breaking his heart as your body shook with grief and fear, something he understood all too well. Leaning his head back against the base of the window seat, Jihoon shifts his eyes down and to the side to keep an eye on you, not rushing you as you work through your emotions. Resting his arm over his chest, he carefully reaches for your fingers, circling his thumb over the diamond on your finger. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I—I wish I could fix it. I—my father, he—” Sighing, Jihoon looks away from you, feeling your fingers shift to hold on to him at another crash of thunder as he speaks. “He died a few hours ago. Everything is going to change now.” 

The weight of Jihoon’s words hit you even as the thunder shakes your windows and you lift your head to look at him. That was why everyone was quiet and where everyone had been. Why had no one told you? Were you not important enough to know that the king had passed away? As soon as the anger starts to sink in for you and you think to complain, it passes when you see the look on Jihoon’s face. Yes, you were still upset and a lot of your frustration was with him but he was in pain. How could he not be? Then it dawns on you; he is the prince and a son. He’s not allowed to mourn the same way around certain people. Those people wouldn’t be you. 

“Oh, Jihoon…” 

There is a soft compassion in your voice that almost instantly breaks Jihoon. It reminds him of how he had heard his mother speak to his father on so many occasions. Closing his eyes tightly, Jihoon tries to force himself not to let go, but when you turn towards him and lean against him, his resolve shatters. There were only a handful of times that Jihoon could even remember truly crying. He had been taught that this sort of emotion was weak and dangerous, but with you holding his hand, he didn’t feel like anything could hurt him as he felt it all for the first time that day in waves. 

7

Jihoon had been right; everything did change. There had been a few days of mourning and a moment to breathe before the air and ground had been ripped out from underneath you both. Suddenly your days were filled with wedding preparations and daily meetings with various members of Jihoon’s family as they helped walk you through not only expectations of your wedding but the coronation. 

You had found yourself on more than one occasion wanting to find time to spend with Jihoon only to be whisked away without more than a dozen words spoken between the two of you. Even without the time you wanted, you could still feel the difference after the storm and after you had shared your feelings with Jihoon. He was different. While you could almost see the stress as it surrounded him like a blanket, you could also see the tenderness in his gaze as he looked at you. You could feel the same each time he would lift your hand and kiss the back of your knuckles before apologizing for once again being pulled away to a meeting, leaving you to deal with the wedding on your own. 

“You’ve changed him.” 

There had been very few moments when you had spent an extended period of time alone with the queen, but today was one of them. The two of you watch as Jihoon once again excuses himself and with her words, your cheeks warm as they would be if you were standing too close to the fireplace. Pressing your lips together, you pick up the sample fabrics laid between the two of you when she smiles and reaches for your hand, taking your fingers into her own and squeezing them gently. 

“I don’t know how. And I know it’s been a difficult few months with us.” 

Hearing her voice break, you finally lift your head and meet Jihoon’s mother’s eyes with concern, sliding your hand into hers and offering her comfort. You watch as she smiles sadly and tilts her head, looking down at your hand as she adjusts the ring on your finger, remembering when Jihoon’s father had put it on her hand so many years ago. 

“He’s difficult, I know. We are difficult. I’m not proud of how—” Shaking her head, she sniffs back her tears along with her words, choosing not to go on with them. “I hope that you can grow to love him. That you will learn to love one another. He’s so special, Y/N. You are special; I feel it.” 

There was so much left unsaid. Not only from the queen but Jihoon. It seemed that almost everyone in the palace would skirt around things, keeping just enough information from you as if it would keep you pliant. Sighing, you tilt your head and smile at the woman watching her fingers adjust your ring with precision and care. “Thank you, Madame. I haven’t… I—well, if anything, I fear I’ve frustrated him more than anything. He just pushes—” Realizing that you are starting to complain about her son, your soon-to-be husband, and the soon-to-be king, you swallow hard and put a smile back on your face. “I will improve on my ability to adapt and obey my husband.” 

It wasn’t much of a secret—your discomfort and Jihoon’s seeming disinterest in you and your feelings. While Jihoon’s mother knew that most of what Jihoon had been doing had kept you healthy and alive, it still was a lot for you to handle. You had come from a completely different kingdom to a place where you were expected to follow a new set of rules, and you had your life turned upside down in the matter of days. Now just a few months later, it had happened again; you were being sent spiraling down the aisle. 

“Mm, and I’m sure over time things will get easier... for the both of you.” 

You wished that the queen would say more. It was always like she wanted to tell you something, give more advice, and yet she’d swallow it every single time before changing the subject back to the wedding or the coronation. You were left looking over the fabrics in your lap as she spoke softly enough for you to almost drown her out, leaving her voice a dull echo in the room as she planned much of it for you with Jieun. 

Jihoon was growing tired of meetings already and he knew for the rest of his life this is what he had to look forward to. Sitting at the head of the table, he let the paper rest between his fingers as he pretended to look over it as much as he pretended to be listening to his cousin speak about the same topic for the last twenty minutes. None of this was important. He had more important things—in his opinion—to be doing, and you had looked so disappointed when he had once again been pulled away from you and the wedding planning. 

It wasn’t as if he had wanted this. He didn’t want to be listening to budget adjustments and which kingdoms owed Aetherial Grove what. He knew most of them owed something, and to him it didn’t matter. Aetherial Grove had more than enough to endure for centuries at this point, and he knew why. He dealt with the backlash of that deal almost every night, and every night that he wasn’t getting his body torn apart, he was thrashing in his bed with nightmares. 

“So it might do us well to seek out some repayment from at least thirty percent of these—” 

“Why? Where did you find that number?” 

It seemed that others in the room found it surprising that Jihoon had actually been following along, with how he had seemed to be staring off into the table. When he spoke, it caused several of the men in the room to shift uncomfortably and to straighten their backs, realizing their crown prince, the man they would call king in just a matter of two weeks, was listening to every single word despite him wanting to or not. 

“I—from my research, Ji—Monseigneur. It would benefit us. There is a royal wedding in less than a week and a coronation. I—I’m not certain that you understand how expensive—”

“I understand that you all seem to think I’m an idiot. You think that because I am new to this particular station and not yet fully seated that you can get by with whatever you wish; that won’t happen.” Pushing the papers from in front of him, Jihoon moves to stand, watching many of the others in the room do the same, but mostly Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who are ready to do what he commands. “Leave the other kingdoms alone. If the wedding and coronation are so expensive that you have to find ways to subsidise the budget, we can cut back on both. There is no need for all the fanfare. I doubt Madame Y/N would much disagree with me on this. Neither of us need some grand affair—” 

“It’s for neither of you! It’s for your kingdom, Monseigneur!” Having kept quiet for most of the meeting, Jihoon’s eldest uncle finally leans forward and raises his voice, causing the rest of the room to fall silent. “As for what Madame Y/N wants, I don’t care and I doubt many others do either. We appreciate her presence and she is a requirement, but she doesn’t get a say in this. You barely get a say in this. You aren’t king yet. We might have money to make this all work, but you need to learn the ins and outs of your kingdom before you go about throwing around your ego and making big decisions.” 

The room suddenly felt smaller; too small, as Jihoon stared at the older man, feeling his chest tightening. He knew there would be push and pull as he took his rightful place as king and knew there would be those who would think to know better than him; he just hadn’t expected it to be those who had held his father in such high regard. “I care.” 

Jihoon’s voice is smaller than intended at first, causing his uncle to furrow his brows and lean forward to hear him better, but the second time that Jihoon speaks, he has the man and other’s sitting back in their seats. “I care, what Y/N wants! You can have your wedding and your coronations, but you will not speak about her like that again. You won’t speak to me like that. This meeting is over, gentlemen. I have a fiancée to see to.” 

8

There were only 36 hours left before you would officially be Jihoon’s wife. Invitations had been sent out and guests were beginning to arrive from surrounding kingdoms, including your own. You had been thrilled when your mother and father had arrived and you had been able to see the pride in their eyes as you walked them through your new home. 

It was easy to see that the benefit of your dowry was making a difference for them. You could see the difference mostly in your father. The stress that you had almost grown accustomed to seeing etched on his face was gone,replaced with happiness as he held your mother close and complimented every detail of the palace. You had felt the most sense of pride yourself when Jihoon had finally made time to meet your parents and put on his best face. 

Over the time since his father had passed away, Jihoon had changed dramatically. You could see it; everyone could, and yet there was still something so distant about him that you were trying to figure out. He still wouldn’t allow you the freedom you longed for and still kept you at a distance that left you cold and left your heart slowly splintering. 

“Of course you are welcome to visit Y/N, and she—perhaps she could visit you more often.” 

Jihoon’s words have your parent’s preening, your mother swooning over him and your father in awe, but to you, you can sense that he’s trying to get you out of the palace. You aren’t even sure how you know, but you do, and it’s even more obvious to you when Jihoon meets your eyes and stumbles over his words before dismissing himself to get back to important matters. 

“I—I’ll see you later for din—dinner.” The disappointment was evident in your eyes and Jihoon had to get away from it. You saw right through him and sometimes he was terrified that you saw more than he wanted. Did you know more than you let on? What if you knew about his curse? Would you hate him? Hate that you were marrying a murderer? Barely brushing his lips against your fingers, Jihoon blows out a panicked breath and slips out of the room. Meeting the eyes of a tall and broad man, he nods in his direction without asking who he is or why he is there. Instead, he moves quickly down the hall and out of sight, not hearing as Wonwoo announces the arrival of another guest. 

“Madame. Monsieur Kim Mingyu, Duke of Leressair, has arrived.” 

You aren’t sure why you hadn’t expected Mingyu to accept your invitation, but seeing him for the first time in so many months has your heart in your throat. Quickly standing, you smooth your dress and listen as your father greets Mingyu, ushering him into the room towards the sofas. 

“Thank you.” Unable to keep his smile from growing too wide as he looks at you, Mingyu takes in a deep breath and lets it out a bit unsteadily. He almost hadn’t accepted the invitation but the desire to see you at least one more time was too great and if it had to be like this, then so be it. “Madame—” 

“Stop it.” The playful smile on Mingyu’s lips as he uses your title makes your stomach tighten even as he reaches for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently, managing to linger just a second too long. “Don’t call me that, please.” 

“Mm, fine. It’s wonderful to see you, Y/N. You look—” Mingyu lets out another breath, trying not to overstep but it had always been difficult when it came to you and he wasn’t sure if your prince was in the room or not. “Congratulations on your wedding. I’m glad you invited me. Care to, uh—wanna show me around?” 

It was a bold attempt at getting you alone so you could talk freely, but it worked. You knew that your parents trusted Mingyu and you had no reason not to, despite your own heart beating out of your chest as you looked at him now. Offering him your hand, you smile as Mingyu carefully guides it through his arm to rest on his forearm before letting you lead the way. 

The moment that you and Mingyu step out of the room, you know you aren’t alone. You can feel eyes behind you and hear the muffled steps drawing your eyes over your shoulder as you frown at Wonwoo. “I—Wonwoo… I’m fine. I am just showing him around the palace. I don’t need a sitter.” 

“Not my intention, Madame. Simply following protocol... You would rather I—” 

“I would rather you didn’t follow me. Please? I want to talk to my friend. If Jihoon needs me, I’m certain any one of you can find me. I am not difficult to find and Mingyu is very obvious.” 

It was clear that Wonwoo wasn’t sure about following your wishes, his eyes moving over Mingyu as the taller man offers him a simple smile, almost feigning innocence, letting you speak for him. “If that’s what you want, Madame...” Wonwoo had no reason not to like Kim Mingyu, but he already felt uneasy with him here. 

Sighing, clearly exasperated, you tug on Mingyu’s arm and lead him forward. Nodding at Wonwoo, you watch the steward stay where he is, though his eyes follow you until you are out of sight. 

“Is it always like this? You aren’t allowed to just—I don’t know, exist?” 

Finally, someone understood how you felt without you having to sit down and explain it to them. Pouting up at Mingyu, you turn towards the gardens and sigh under your breath. So often since you had arrived in Aetherial Grove, you had felt like a prisoner in a fancy cell and this was one of the only times you felt like you had a semblance of freedom. “You have no idea, Mingyu. I—I shouldn’t speak poorly of my new family.” 

“It’s between us, Y/N, as always. Your secrets are my secrets. That hasn’t changed, dove.” 

The pet name slipping from Mingyu’s lips not only has your cheeks burning but also a bit of shame and excitement rushing through you as you lead him further into the gardens away from the palace to enjoy the privacy. The name was nothing romantic or anything you should be ashamed of, but it could be misunderstood. It had come simply from your wish to be as free as a bird all of your life. You had sat in your window and Mingyu had caught you so many times staring off at the sky and daydreaming that the name had stuck when he had asked you if you were going to fly away like a dove. 

“No, perhaps not, but it feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you now. Things are complicated here.” Sliding your hand along Mingyu’s arm, your fingers catch his briefly, feeling him almost attempting to keep your hand in his before you find your hand back at your side. Looking down at the flowers, you sigh under your breath, feeling Mingyu’s eyes on you, forever patient as always, though his eyes move along your face and down your body, studying you. “I’m not allowed to leave the palace and there’s only so much I am able to do inside. It’s suffocating. I–” 

Mingyu watches you laugh; though he can tell the laugh is without humor, it’s almost sad, causing him to furrow his brows and move closer to you. Wrapping his fingers around your wrist where your bracelet once sat every day while you lived in Thornwood, he gently taps at your pulse point and smiles at you, almost feeling your stress flowing through your body as you stand amongst the various flowers. “You what? Seriously, tell me. I’m not going to run to the prince and tell him. I don’t even know what he looks like. I’ve only heard stories.” 

You had seen Jihoon look at Mingyu as he had walked in, but clearly they hadn’t been introduced; you’d have to fix that at some point. Mingyu was so important to you, and Jihoon was and would remain important. There was no ending marriage for someone like you. This was your one and only chance, and it terrified you to look at the person who you thought you were going to be spending that chance with, seeing the kindness in his eyes that you so rarely got from Jihoon. 

“I feel like a prisoner sometimes.” Grimacing, you whine and tug your wrist from Mingyu, almost hating that he’s touching you when you feel so gross about your own words. You shouldn’t feel that way about the people who were giving you so much and giving your kingdom even more. They were saving your people and they hadn’t truly done anything wrong to you. It was more about how you felt, about how your heart felt. “I’m awful.” 

“Stop, no, you not. You aren’t happy, Y/N. I could tell the moment I laid eyes on you.” Sliding his hands into yours, Mingyu turns you towards him and leans down to make you meet his eyes, watching you pout at him still. "Dove, you want me to steal you? I’ll do it. I’ll run away with you in a heartbeat.” 

It was a cute joke and a sweet dream. Laughing under your breath, you glance away from Mingyu even as your reaction makes his smile falter. He knew you wouldn’t accept it. You were a child of responsibility and duty. This marriage was your duty and you wouldn’t run away from it, no matter how much Mingyu tried to convince you otherwise. He wished with all of his heart that he had made you a ring instead of a bracelet and he wished even more right now that you were still wearing the bracelet. 

“Well, the offer stands. Forever.” Lifting your hand slightly to look at your ring, Mingyu tries to judge it harshly but even he has to admit its fitting for your beauty. At least Jihoon had done that right, even if he wasn’t keeping you happy. “I wish—it’s stupid of me, but I wish you were wearing your bracelet. I’m sure the prince won’t allow it though.” 

The mention of your bracelet causes even the slightest smile on your lips to fade quickly as you think about the shards of gold sitting on your vanity. Lowering your eyes to the ground, you shake your head and lick your lips before trying to think of the best lie you can, not wanting to hurt Mingyu anymore than you have to. “I—no. I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” 

Shivering in the cold, Jihoon narrows his eyes as he watches you move deeper into the garden on another man’s arm. Jihoon trusted you. There wasn’t really any reason for him to be concerned until this Kim Mingyu had shown up at the palace. The man hadn’t even been on his radar until Wonwoo had found him and let him know that you and Mingyu had decided to walk alone. That on its own didn’t have Jihoon where he was now, casually keeping his distance as he listened to you laugh softly at the man’s words and seemingly swoon over him; it was more how he was looking at you. 

You seemed oblivious to it while not immune to Mingyu’s charm. That wasn’t your fault; you were a woman whose betrothed had been pushing her away for months, and now a man you had known for years was showing you kindness and interest. The entire display was enough to make Jihoon’s stomach twist with something he wasn’t used to feeling on his own without the beast provoking it: jealousy. 

“No—I, Y/N… I completely understand. It really wouldn’t be. I just miss seeing it on your arm, though—” Laughing softly, Mingyu guides you by your wrist towards one of the concrete benches to sit down so he can do the same next to you, not realizing that Jihoon is watching so closely from the shadows. “It’s nothing compared to how pretty you are. It’s really wasn’t up to par with what I can make now. I’ve been practicing; in fact, I made you something. You know, as a wedding gift.” 

As always, Mingyu has your heart racing and your face on fire with his compliments. Shaking your head, you try to argue with him, but at the mention of a gift, you whine his name and draw your shoulders up towards your cheeks in an attempt to hide from his attention. 

“Now, why are you doing that? It’s nothing big, just a little thing, Dove. Here…”

Clenching his fist at his side, Jihoon watches Mingyu take the small bag from his jacket as he feels the hair at the back of his neck stand up much like the hackles of an animal sensing danger. He didn’t like this man. Mingyu didn’t know boundaries. Where did he get off calling you Dove and giving you gifts days before you were getting married? You were Jihoon's... Taking a deep breath and letting it out under his breath, it comes out more of a growl than a breath as he watches you take the necklace from the pouch. You liked it. Your heart was racing. Jihoon could hear it from here—the beast could hear it. It pissed Jihoon off just as much as it pissed off the beast. 

“Oh my god, Mingyu. It’s gorgeous. You really have gotten so good at this.” Tracing the golden bird in your palm, you frown slightly, feeling a pang of guilt over how much you like the necklace. You shouldn’t accept it, and yet it feels like a piece of home to replace the bracelet that Jihoon had ruined and taken from you. Taking a deep breath, you hold it for a second before nodding and letting it out sharply, making up your mind. You’d accept it and wear it. Jihoon didn’t have to know. “Will you put it on for me?” 

You were too naive, and it made Jihoon want to be sick as Mingyu grinned, taking the necklace from you to do as you asked. Of course he would put the necklace on for you. It didn’t mean the same thing to Mingyu as it did to you, but how could you know that? You were just a stupid little girl with her head in the clouds while Jihoon could read all the signs that Mingyu was throwing at you. 

“So beautiful and it looks perfect on you, Y/N.” Trailing his fingers along your neck even after he’s clasped the necklace, Mingyu leans his head around to look at you, watching you smile at his compliment. You were perfect and somehow you looked even more perfect with that necklace on. “Promise you’ll try to wear it whenever you can? Remember me just a little bit, even when you’re a fancy queen?” 

Leaning back slightly as you laugh, you roll your eyes to Mingyu’s teasing, trying to tell him you’d try only to stop laughing or smiling at all when he presses his lips to your cheek closer to your jaw. “I—yes. I—we should go inside, Mingyu.” 

The kiss was enough to make Jihoon move, his hands now securely in his pockets as he put on a fake friendly face, moving through the garden as if searching for you. “Oh, there you are, mon ange. That’s a pretty necklace.” Lifting his brow, Jihoon lets out a breath through his nose, meeting Mingyu’s eyes as he still speaks to you, watching you shift to sit on your own away from Mingyu. “Who’s this?” 

You hadn’t expected Jihoon to look for you. He never really had before and he had never, to your knowledge, called you anything other than your name or your title. Why was he calling you angel now? Putting your hand over the necklace in question, you feel your heart attempting to beat out of your chest as Mingyu smiles and half smirks up at Jihoon realizing who he is. “I—thank you. This is Kim Mingyu. He’s—” 

“Monseigneur, I presume? Kim Mingyu, Duke of Leressair. I’m an old friend—” 

“I see and you presume correctly, Monsieur.” Turning his attention from Mingyu, Jihoon presses his lips together before offering you his hand, waiting for you to take it. “We should prepare for dinner. Allow our guests time to do the same. I have something I want to speak to you about anyway.” 

Jihoon’s eyes never leave you, even as you seem to struggle with your decision. Finally watching you put your hand in his, his lips pull up into something that resembles the half smirk that Mingyu had given him before he takes a step back, helping you to your feet. “We will see you at dinner, Monsieur. Say goodbye, darling.” 

Between the feeling of Jihoon’s hand on yours and his intense gaze, you feel almost faint. This was different from what you were used to. You had never seen him act like this before, almost possessive over you—was that what this was? A show of dominance? Glancing back over your shoulder as Jihoon guides you away from Mingyu, you furrow your brows and whisper your goodbye to your friend as he offers you a soft smile and a nod. 

“I’ll see you at dinner, Y/N.” 

Once inside the palace, the feeling of Jihoon’s hand around yours causes your anxiety to spike even higher. You find your mind racing as he leads you silently down the hall towards your rooms before finally stopping to push the door open and leading you inside and dropping your hand. Glancing around the room, you avoid his eyes and move towards one of your sofas when he finally speaks, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Don’t go anywhere with him alone again, and I—” Struggling with what he knows he wants to say and what he has to say, Jihoon moves closer to you, carefully touching your arms, feeling you jump slightly. You were afraid of him. That was good and yet it still broke his heart. “You can’t wear this. Do you know how it would look?” Unable to see how your composure breaks, Jihoon carefully undoes your necklace, bringing the delicate chain into his hand along with the dove charm, leaving your neck bare. 

Twice now he had taken home away from you. Tears slowly slide down your cheeks as you watch Jihoon move towards your vanity to lay down the necklace near the broken bracelet. You watch as he takes in a deep breath, picking up a piece of gold furrowing his brows at it, though you don’t know what he is thinking; it just serves to anger you more. “Could you leave, please?” 

He deserved that. Your anger and the contempt in your voice. Gently putting the broken piece of the bracelet back with the others, Jihoon sighs and glances over his shoulder at you, seeing the tears drip from your face. Was this possibly worse than killing you? He hated both situations, but he also hated seeing that man’s hands on you and his lips against your skin. “No, not yet. I—” 

“Why not? There’s nothing to say or do, Jihoon. I just—please leave me alone.” 

The room seems too small as you close your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself, knowing that Jihoon is watching you so closely. You listen between your sobs to hear him leave the room but it never happens; instead, you open your eyes to find him sitting on the arm of your sofa, his eyes on his hands as he turns the ring on his index finger, slowly waiting for you to calm down. 

“Do you hate me?” 

Another valid question for you to ask and yet again it broke Jihoon’s heart. You were leaving jagged pieces in his heart with almost every word and all Jihoon could do was shake his head and hope for a way to make this better. “Of course not. Y/N, I—we are getting married; how could I hate you?” 

“Marriage and your ability to care about someone don’t go hand in hand, Jihoon. You could hate me and tolerate me as your wife.” Wiping your cheeks free of tears even as more fall, you move past him, feeling his eyes follow you. “As long as I can stand by your side as a decent queen and provide an heir, I’ve met my purpose. I just need to keep my mouth shut and my legs open, right? I’ve been told it enough tim—”

“Jesus, fucking Christ, Y/N! Who told you that? It wasn’t me.” Moving to his feet, Jihoon lifts his hands as you seem to recoil at his raised voice. He didn’t want to scare you again, but you were spiraling and going off on a tangent once again. “I have never once said—” 

“You told me to shut my mouth the night of our engagement party.” 

Jihoon’s brows furrow, his words dying in his mouth before he’s finished when you speak over him. He barely remembered that night at the party. He had made it out of the palace and off the grounds before shifting; he remembered more of what had happened in the forest and how the beast had killed every animal in its path. “What? I don’t—” 

“‘Shut your mouth, Y/N and obey me.’ You said that you put the ring on my finger and that I would obey you. Is that what you want from me now, Jihoon? Because that’s what everyone else seems to think I should do.” Looking down at the ring on your finger, you furrow your brows at it, having grown to hate it. “Provide you children and obey you, day in and day out. Even if you yell at me and tell me to lock myself in my rooms for the rest of my fucking life.” Sniffing back tears hard, you defiantly meet Jihoon’s eyes even as you see the shock and pain behind them as you speak. “I hope I never give you a child.” 

While he wasn’t going to say it to you now, Jihoon hoped the same. He was terrified that he would put something like himself inside of you. Not only would he curse another person by them being born like him, but he’d put that thing inside of you. But it wasn’t the fact that he agreed with you that it hurt Jihoon, but that you’d say it out of anger. You hated him that much. “Perhaps you won’t. Time will tell, won’t it?” Running his fingers through his hair, Jihoon shakes his head and glances towards your window, knowing it was getting closer to dinner time. He wanted dinner over and done with as soon as possible. Everyone tucked away safely in their beds. “Everything I do, I do it for you.” 

Wrapping your arms around you at Jihoon’s words, you tilt your head, feeling a pang of resentment towards the man in front of you. “So you say so very often with no explanation. Please… leave.” Your eyes follow Jihoon as he stands and moves towards you, stopping by your side to look at you, though you turn your head away, not wanting to look at him. You only feel his hand take yours and feel his lips brush over your knuckles as always before you head the door open and close to your room, leaving you alone. 

9

"Oh, terribly so. Until she was 10 years old, I believe.” 

Hiding your face with your hands, you whine as your father tells yet another story to embarrass you hearing Jihoon’s mother coo at how adorable you are. Across the table from you, Mingyu grins at your reaction, using his napkin to wipe his lips as he furrows his brows and nods along. 

“She’s still afraid of storms, Your Majesty. She may have hid it well, but up to the day she left for this—" Choosing his words wisely, Mingyu nods at the Queen, shooting her a bright smile. “Beautiful kingdom, she would tremble and simply shut down at the first rumble of thunder. I’m sure it hasn’t changed. You would have to wrap her up in a blanket and keep her sheltered until it passed or she’d suffer too much.” 

Mingyu was sharing too much. Shifting a bit uncomfortable in your chair, you reach for your wine once again when Jihoon takes it from you, taking a sip of his own and then offering it to you as he hums in appreciation. 

“Mm, Monsieur Mingyu is right. I found my darling Y/N during the most recent storm, after—” Furrowing his brows, Jihoon clears his throat and chooses not to talk about his father, instead he smiles and shakes his head, looking over at you. “Anyway, she made it through just fine with someone simply by her side. She’s much stronger than some give her credit for.” 

You didn’t need Jihoon to stick up for you. You couldn’t shake the feeling of him trying just a little too hard, asserting his dominance a bit too much. By the end of the dinner, you find yourself feeling drained between his need to hover and Mingyu’s need to meet him at every level. At the beginning of the afternoon you hadn’t noticed it, their preening, but it had become all too clear by dessert as you hoped and prayed for dinner to come to an end. 

Jihoon wanted nothing more than to walk you to your room for the night. He had watched you stare at your cake, your fork slicing off thin bits that you never ate until most of it lay in a pile on your plate while others laughed and drank around the table out of celebration. They were all distracted; well, most of them. He had noticed Mingyu watching you as well. He knew that the other man had realized how distracted you were and even now, as the dinner was wrapping up, he was lingering. 

“Y/N…” 

“Mon ange.” 

The two voices pull your attention from your destroyed dessert and up to where Jihoon stands to your right and Mingyu just a bit further to your left. When had everyone else left? Were you that distracted? Dropping your fork, you mutter your apologies, allowing the servant to take the plates from in front of you, meeting her worried look before you start to slide your chair back, feeling Jihoon ease it from you, making it easier to stand up. 

“Are you alright? I—perhaps we could take a walk?” 

Mingyu was being bold and right in front of Jihoon. You could feel the heat from Jihoon’s body as he steps closer to you, meeting the larger man’s eyes over your shoulder. Before he is able to speak, you remember what Jihoon said in your room, and you shake your head and offer Mingyu a sad, genuine smile. “I’m so tired. Rain check? I just want to go to bed.” 

“I’ll get you to your room, Y/N.”

The tension between you and Jihoon was evident even as he guided you out of the dining hall and deeper into the palace with his hand on your lower back. He felt too warm, too close. You were still angry at him and you didn’t want him to walk you anywhere. 

“I can make it the rest of the way myself.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon sighs your name under his breath, grabbing your arm at your elbow when you try to walk away from him. This wasn’t the time to be frustrating him. It was too dark outside and though he could feel that he might not shift tonight, he was close. The beast was right under his skin, causing his emotions to be heightened. “I said I’d get you to your room. So, please... stop acting like this. Are you just trying to get away from me so you can run back to your friend?” The moment the words leave Jihoon’s mouth, he feels regret wash over him, especially when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, I—no, wait. I’m sorry, Y/N!” 

With Jihoon, he really did take one step forward and two steps back. With those words spoken aloud, he took five massive steps back and he might as well have punched you in the stomach. Tugging your arm free from his grip, feeling his fingers try to grip you tightly, possibly leaving a bruise, you find yourself not caring as you sniff back your tears and start walking quickly away from him as he tries to apologize. “Why? Why are you sorry? Because you said it, or because you think I—” Grimacing, unable to even say the words, you shake your head and throw up your hands out of anger. 

Jihoon finds himself walking behind you, his fingers working through his hair out of nerves as he tries to keep up and think of how to fix this. “No! Wait—I, yes! I’m sorry because I said it! I didn’t mean it!” Stopping quickly when he reaches your door to watch it be slammed in his face, Jihoon lets out a loud, frustrated breath as he leans his forehead against it and presses his palms next to his head. “I know you wouldn’t! Please let me in and talk to me. Don’t—come on! We are getting married in a day!” 

Resting your head back against the door, you feel fresh tears stream down your cheeks and along your neck as Jihoon knocks on your door, begging you to speak to him and to forgive him. You knew when you were getting married and you were beginning to wonder if you should take Mingyu’s proposal up and run away with him. As quickly as the thought passes through your mind, a wave of guilt rushes through you, pain hitting your chest and stomach and causing you to sob loud enough that Jihoon’s knocks stop. You wonder if he has left, but his soft voice a moment later tells you that he hasn’t. 

“Y/N… I hate myself for this. For—for making you feel like this. I’m a curse to everyone around me. D-do you—” Sliding down the door, Jihoon sits on the floor against it, knocking his head back against the wood before reaching up to rest his head in his hands. “If you want to leave me, I’d let you. I would tell them you—I don’t know. I’d make up something, if that’s what you want.” 

Silence. You aren’t even listening to him. Jihoon feels like a fool for even trying to speak to you. You clearly hate him more than anyone else in the world, but then that feels impossible because no one could hate him more than himself. Sitting in his own self-loathing, Jihoon pushes his thumb against his palm hard, wondering if he should give up when he hears the lock of your door turn and feels the surface behind him shift, leaving him sitting on his own as he looks up at you from the floor. 

“Y/N…” 

Taking a step back, you let Jihoon get to his feet, his hands quickly trying to wipe the dust from his pants so that he looks somewhat more presentable before he moves into the room once you let him. 

“We have a duty, Jihoon.” 

"No, I know th—” 

“Let me speak.” No other woman had ever spoken to Jihoon like you did or made him feel this way. You commanded the space, even with tears drying on your cheeks and a look of heartbreak in your eyes. “I came here for Thornwood and I’m not a coward. I said I would marry you and that’s what I intend on doing, but things have to change.”

Change terrified Jihoon. Swallowing hard, he tilts his head, watching you appraise him and his reaction. He wanted to give into you so easily and give you everything you wanted, but was it that easy? The beast would kill you the first chance it got. “Y/N…” 

“Things have to change, Jihoon! I’m not your prisoner. I’m not a doll that you can lock away in some room and play with when you see fit. I’m going to be the queen.” 

You were right; he knew that. Grimacing even as he nodded, Jihoon watches your expression soften. He wasn’t completely giving into this; there would still need to be some safe guards put up, but perhaps he could allow some changes for your happiness. “Okay, but we have to compromise. I still don’t want you going out at night, ever.” 

It takes everything in you not to lash out at Jihoon; it’s only the look in his eye—a genuine look of concern for you—that makes you even consider that he’s not just trying to keep some power over you. “I—fine. I don’t get it, but I won’t go outside after dark.” 

Relief washes over Jihoon and he nods along with your words, taking a step closer to you, happy when you don’t instantly move away from him. “There are things in the dark that you don’t understand, Y/N. I don’t want you hurt, or worse. So that’s the only thing I ask for right now.” 

To you, it sounded like ghost stories and fairy tales once again getting the best of the imaginations of the residents of Aetherial Grove; you just hadn’t expected it to be their prince who fell for them. You didn’t expect those stories to make him pale and to look sick to his stomach as he reached for your hands, wanting you close. “I—okay. They’re just stories, Jihoon, but I’ll stay inside at night. I said I would. Stop worrying so much. We have enough to worry about besides ghost stories.” 

Ghosts? If only that were the worst of Jihoon’s troubles. He had never seen a ghost in his life. He didn’t question their existence. Perhaps they did exist and wandered another realm, but in his world he had bigger things to worry about. Offering you a smile, Jihoon nods and lifts your hands bringing them to his lips kissing both of your hands and resting his lips against your left for a moment longer before taking a step back. “You’re right, darling.” 

10

You had always been told that dream weddings were made for princesses. So why was it on your own wedding day that you didn’t feel like it was your own wedding? You were in your dress, your flowers in your hand, as you stood next to your father in front of the large church doors, listening to the beautiful music, but it was as if you were watching someone else get married. 

“Ready, honey?” 

Had you said yes? You couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter. You were putting on a smile and avoiding the eyes of everyone as you walked down the aisle, just attempting not to trip. One, two, three, four, five, six—by the time you reached the front of the church, you had counted 79 flower petals that had been dropped by one of your youngest cousins. They were very pretty petals. What did petals lining a wedding aisle mean again? Luck? Fertility? Transformation? A bond between families? 

“My wife and I.” 

Your father was speaking and offering your hand to someone else. You were getting married. Lifting your eyes, you meet Jihoon’s feeling, and your heart starts to beat frantically as it all seems to set in for you. The air settles around you and his hands on yours ground you bringing you back to reality. 

“You okay?” 

What did he want you to say? You could barely find words to speak so instead you smile and nod, watching him do the same as the priest continues the ceremony. You find yourself transfixed on the man in front of you, every piece of hair in place, his handsome smile, and his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Yes, I do.” 

He does? What does he—- 

“Madame Y/N Y/L/N of Thornwood, do you take this man, Monseigneur Lee Jihoon, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

The room had become deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop as they waited for your answer and all you could truly hear was your heart and unsteady breath as Jihoon kept his eyes on you. The words sit on the tip of your tongue until Jihoon’s fingers gently squeeze yours, giving you the confidence you need to continue and gaining a happy whispered cheer from the audience watching. 

“Ye—yes, I do.” 

Blowing out a breath, playfully. Jihoon smiles when you finally do speak, feeling the tension release from your fingers. You were nervous and that was making him even more nervous. You seemed like you were in another world until he finally brought you back and now that he had you and the priest was delivering the last of his lines, Jihoon felt like he could either throw up or like his chest could explode from being overwhelmed. 

“I now pronounce you man and wife. Monseigneur, you may kiss your bride.” 

His bride. His. He had never kissed you before, no more than the back of your knuckles but that hadn’t meant that he hadn’t thought about it or dreamt of it. Swallowing hard, Jihoon nods and takes one hand from yours to cup your jaw gingerly as he leans forward, his lips resting mere centimeters from yours, letting you decide to do the rest. 

Why had he stopped? Whining under your breath, feeling Jihoon’s breath against your lips, you furrow your brows and close the distance, pressing your lips against his for the first time hearing the audience burst into a loud cheer seeing the first kiss shared by a husband and wife. You had shared a kiss with Mingyu before; it had been small, just his lips brushing against yours before you had pulled away, but this was different. You could feel Jihoon smile against your lips. You could almost taste him before he pulled away, leaving you breathless and stunned at the alter next to him. 

It shouldn’t surprise you or Jihoon that the rest of the reception would be a whirlwind of well wishes and unsolicited advice. You find that once again your only saving grace is the man standing beside you, his hand linked with yours and his thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of your wrist as he carries most of the conversations. 

“Mm, no. We won’t be going anywhere. We have the coronation set for the middle of next week and there is so much to be done here. I will enjoy my bride at home. I’m hoping to spend as much time with her as possible.” 

You find yourself wondering how much of Jihoon’s words are true. Would he spend extra time with you? What would tonight be like? The idea of your wedding night has your stomach in knots and Jihoon tugging you tighter to his side, feeling your fingers closing around his. 

“I—mm, no, thank you. We’re fine. Really, we won’t travel often. If Y/N wants to travel—” 

Why wouldn’t Jihoon travel? That had come up time and time again. He was ready to send you back home to visit your parents. You two would be going nowhere after your wedding and now he was offering to let you travel without him? Furrowing your brows, you look up at your husband finally meeting his eyes, making him laugh a bit awkwardly and excuse you both as he grabs two glasses of champagne, leading you towards one of the windows, letting you rest against the sill. 

“This is exhausting. Are you alright?” 

Gladly accepting the glass, you hum between sips before tilting your head and looking out over the crowd that was luckily getting smaller as the afternoon crept by. “Fine. Ready to be alone. This is just overwhelming.” 

Nodding into his own glass, Jihoon lets his eyes move around the room before they land on Mingyu, who nods in acknowledgement before looking away. He was ready for everyone to leave as well, ready for them to go back to where they belonged—especially Kim Mingyu. “It’ll be done soon and you can head to bed.” 

Pausing mid-drink, you glance up at Jihoon before lowering your glass. "Oh, and should I—” Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, turning your head away, feeling awkward and uncertain about how to continue without sounding desperate. “Should I expect anyone to join me?” 

Jihoon had taken a drink and swallowed half of it when you finally got your words out. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t that. He hadn’t meant to react the way he had, but being caught off guard and feeling the champagne take a sudden wrong turn, Jihoon finds himself coughing as he tries to calm himself down and avoid your eyes and others as they look at him concerned. “I’m fine… I—” Tilting his head and clearing his throat, Jihoon holds up his hand, keeping others from approaching him or you as he repeats that he doesn’t need help. “I’m fine, I promise.” 

“Was my question that shocking?” 

Jihoon watches your lips quiver slightly, only for you to hide your emotions by taking a sip of the drink in your hand. “No—I, yes. I won’t lie, yes, but also it shouldn’t have been. Y/N, I’m not meaning to upset you.” 

Shaking your head, you clear your throat, feeling your cheeks flair with warmth from embarrassment. You were such a fool for even considering that Jihoon would come to your room or want you like that even if you were his wife. “I’m not upset. I’m tired. I’m going to go ahead and call it an evening. Say goodbye to the guests, Jihoon.” Stepping away from him, you meet his eyes, feeling his fingers trail over yours. “And get a wonderful night’s sleep.” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Jihoon groans in frustration at you and mostly himself as the door closes behind you, leaving him alone with the guests in the dining hall at the wedding reception. He had once again messed up and was left to clean up the mess. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to see you or be with you, but tonight was going to be a bad night. 

Some nights Jihoon couldn’t tell when he was going to shift, and others like tonight he could feel it from a mile away. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire and the rumbling in his ears had been loud from the moment he had gotten up. He had barely made it through the wedding on sheer will, but now you had left him to the lions, and one in particular looked overly amused. 

Working his way through the remaining guests, bidding them a goodnight and explaining you had needed to go lay down with a headache, Jihoon felt his own headache growing with every single lie he told. It wasn’t until Mingyu had given him one more smirk and sipped at his whiskey that Jihoon cracked. “Something on your mind, Mingyu?” 

“Of course not, Monseigneur. Just awaiting my turn to give my well wishes to the beautiful couple before I retire for the night, but—oh, where is your bride, Monseigneur?” 

He was playing with fire and clearly drunk. Laughing under his breath, Jihoon nods and wipes his finger under his nose, moving closer to Mingyu. He could feel a subtle shift in the air, not realizing his eyes had already shifted in color from brown to gold. “Waiting for me in bed, like a good wife. Where she belongs.” 

Mingyu’s smile falters not only at Jihoon’s words but also at the change in his tone and the difference in Jihoon’s eye color. “Yeah, that so? She didn’t seem very happy earlier. So I figured you wouldn’t be satisfying her on her wedding night. Or at least that’s what her face was saying. I know her pretty well, you see.” 

Scoffing, Jihoon digs his nails into his palm, taking a step towards Mingyu, who doesn’t budge. “Do you know her pretty well? How well? Careful with your next words...” 

He had no reason to be afraid of Jihoon, and yet the air around Jihoon was causing Mingyu’s hair to stand on end. He could feel his heart rate starting to rise as he realized that the only people left in the room beside himself and Jihoon were servants. “I—yeah, I know—” 

“Monseigneur! It’s time for a night walk.” 

Time had gotten away from Soonyoung during the festivities. He hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten until he had seen Jihoon backing the larger man against a wall and he knew that could only mean one thing: Jihoon was shifting. “Apologies for taking away the monseigneur, but routines. Have a goodnight, Monsieur.” 

Left speechless, Mingyu is only able to take a full breath once Jihoon is ushered away from him and out the doors. “What the fuck—” His heart was slowly starting to calm down and the sense of danger seemed to dissipate the longer that he was away from Jihoon. There was something wrong with everything that had just happened. He was twice the size of Jihoon in most ways and yet the man had him almost trembling for a moment and quickly sobering up. Now the prince was going for a night walk? Where? You weren’t allowed to go out at night. That was one of the things you had told Mingyu. Now he was even more curious as to why. 

Guiding Jihoon towards the gates, Soonyoung grimaces, hearing the sounds of flesh starting to rip. This was closer than he wanted to be to a shift. It was dangerous and he had scars that he already bore from Jihoon and close calls. 

“Get away from me!” 

Trembling from the pain and fear of shifting, Jihoon growls out the words, glancing back at Soonyoung as he slams the gates shut in front of him, sealing him out for the night. The painful groaning roar that escapes Jihoon next almost breaks Soonyoung’s heart as he turns on his heels and runs back towards the palace, not seeing Mingyu lingering in the shadows near the gates watching Jihoon stumble and fall as he shifts into the beast. 

“Fuck—” There aren’t words to explain what Mingyu feels or the terror for you that runs through him as he watches the bear’s claws dig into the dirt as it runs for the forest snarling. There was no way he was going to let you stay here with that thing. He’d kill it before he’d let it hurt you. Without much thought, Mingyu heads back towards the palace and to his room to grab his knife before sneaking back out towards the forest in search of Jihoon, determined that only one of them would come back for you in the morning. 

11

The night had been too long and filled with strange and horrible dreams as you tossed and turned in your bed. You had hoped and prayed that Jihoon had been lying to you and that he would show up at your door, but instead you found yourself on your wedding night alone. You had been half tempted to go find Mingyu, but after sending Jieun to find him, she only found his room empty, confusing you more. 

You woke the next morning to terrified and frantic yelling that made your stomach twist instantly with nausea before your feet ever hit the floor. What was wrong? Why would anyone be that upset after the day of your wedding? 

Not caring about putting on more than a robe, you run through the halls and towards the commotion only to stop when Wonwoo wraps his arms around your waist, urging for you to wait. “No! What’s wrong? Let me go!” Tugging free from his grasp, you manage to move through the wall of people only to fall to your knees at the sight in front of you. 

When you hear the scream, you aren’t aware that it’s coming from you until your mother is holding you to her chest and rocking you back and forth, trying to calm you down. The sound is so gut wrenching and devastating that you can’t believe that you are making it, but the sight of Mingyu bloody and clinging for life in front of you was enough to make you learn that you could make such a sound. 

“He’s alive, but—barely. Jihoon found him in the forest this morning and brought him back. If it wasn’t for him...” 

Blinking through your tears, you search for Jihoon, who mutters something you can’t hear to Soonyoung before he disappears from your sight down the hall once again, leaving you essentially alone. You are left clinging to your mother as you watch the servants move Mingyu into another room where doctors begin their work to save your friend. 

Your sense of time gets lost as you sit outside of the room listening to the hushed voices of the doctors and the clanking of their tools. It’s only when someone kneels in front of you, putting a plate of food on your lap, that you seem to focus on the face in front of you, realizing that it’s Jihoon. Glancing down at the plate, you grimace and look away from it, feeling Jihoon’s palm against your cheek, turning your head back towards him. 

“You have to eat. You’ve been sitting here all day. It’s doing him no good.” Picking up the fork from the plate, Jihoon cuts into a piece of meat, lifting it for you and watching you furrow your brows as he tries to feed you. “Eat, please? How is not eating going to help the doctors save him?” 

The smell of the meat wasn’t appetizing. Nothing about the food in front of you made you want to eat it, but it was more Jihoon urging you to take a bite that had you leaning forward and accepting it. Chewing slowly, you lean your head back against the wall as he sighs, moving to sit in front of you, crossing his legs, and putting the plate in his own lap so he can gather more of the food waiting for you to finish the first bite. 

“Y/N—” 

“Where did you find him? Why were you outside, Jihoon?” 

Closing his eyes, Jihoon rests the fork on the plate and takes a deep breath to your questions as you cut him off before he can speak again. There was the truth and then there was what he and Soonyoung had come up with. Jihoon wasn’t sure which he was ready to tell you or if he was ready to tell you anything. 

He could remember Mingyu trying to attack him—the beast—in the forest. He could still see the anger on the man’s face as he tried to do anything with the useless knife in his hand, but like many others before him, Mingyu had found himself powerless against the beast. The thought of it made Jihoon feel sick to his stomach as he smelled the copper in the air even now as the doctors worked to repair what he had done to Mingyu. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t killed him. Maybe it was seeing your face and the pain in it when he had taken the necklace from your neck, but he had managed to run away from Mingyu and then find him barely breathing once he was human again. 

“Please don’t do this to me.” 

Jihoon heard your tears before he saw them. He heard the desperation and despair in your voice as you sobbed, drawing his eyes back up to you. It had broken his heart before to see you upset but now you were his wife. It was his duty more than ever to take care of you and he was already fucking it up. “I—he was attacked by a mon—” 

“The monseigneur was out for a morning walk and heard him.” 

Gritting his teeth to Wonwoo’s voice, Jihoon lowers his head again and nods along with the story that he and Soonyoung had come up with. Of course others in the palace would know the story by now, and the steward would want to protect him—especially from himself. Jihoon wants to explain it all to you and make you understand, but the look on Wonwoo’s face makes him stay silent as you stare up at the tall man. 

“Do we know what attacked him?” Jihoon had started to say something. You could tell that he was keeping something else from you, that perhaps he had started to open up and then he was once again silenced. This had happened before—the same song and dance, but this was different for you. Your best friend was laying torn apart on a table fighting for his life and you weren’t just going to accept it and smile. “Jihoon said—”

“The monseigneur is tired, madame. You both are. You aren’t eating properly and the monseigneur is increasingly busy as the coronation approaches.” 

You were starting to hate Wonwoo. He kept secrets worse than Jihoon in some ways. He made you realize that Jihoon was as much, if not more, of a prisoner in this palace than you were. Shaking your head, you turn it away from both Wonwoo and Jihoon listening for the sounds of the doctors as they continue to work. “I want to be alone.” 

“Y/N, I can sit with you. I don’t have—” 

“Very well, madame. Monseigneur, you have a busy day. If you don’t mind to come with me?” 

Biting at his cheek, Jihoon lets his eyes move over your pretty face as fresh tears run down your cheeks untouched. He wanted to fix this, to make you feel better and yet he was once again being pulled away from you. “Fine… Here, please eat a bit more.” Putting the plate next to your leg, Jihoon watches your eyes move to it for a few seconds before you look away again, ignoring what he said. “I’ll check in when I can, darling.” 

You do your best to stay stoic even as the tears run down your face, but when Jihoon’s lips press to the side of your head, you can’t help how your body shakes with grief. You wanted him to stay with you and keep his vows to love and protect you. 

Keeping his eyes on you until it’s impossible to do so, Jihoon crosses his arms and scowls at the ground in front of him, knowing Wonwoo is just a few steps behind him. “This better be important. I should be back there with her.” 

“With all due respect, monseigneur I’m not sure being around madame Y/N is in your best interest when you are in the headspace you are currently in. You might make mistakes and put yourself or the kingdom at risk.” 

Jihoon felt like the air had been forcefully removed from his lungs as he came to a stop in the hallway. There wasn’t anything pressing to take care of; Wonwoo was just trying to keep him quiet. It made sense. He had heard some of what Jihoon had started to tell you, but it didn’t give him the right to dictate what he said or did. 

Even as Jihoon stood there seething, he knew that he was lying to himself. Of course Wonwoo could tell him what to do and how to do it. His allegiance was to the king and to the kingdom. Jihoon wasn’t yet king. Wonwoo was doing what he thought would protect the kingdom, and even Jihoon knew the man was right. If you knew everything about Jihoon, there was no way you would have married him. There was no way that you’d be his queen and there was no way he’d ever even have a chance of having an heir with you. 

“I know you are upset with me, Jihoon. Your father gave me very specific instructions before he passed away. I’m attempting to follow them to the letter. I want you to succeed. Stop attempting to self-sabotage yourself.” Watching Jihoon’s shoulders relax, Wonwoo lets out a breath and takes a step closer to the prince, tilting his head. “She’ll learn everything in time. It doesn’t have to be now and certainly not while he is on an operating table. Think about how she would react learning that—” 

“I get it. I was being weak. Thank you for stopping me, Wonwoo.” 

He was right; Jihoon knew it. You’d hate him. You might even try to do exactly what Mingyu had and he wouldn’t even blame you. 

12

Thorns dug into your feet. Bloody footprints marked every step you made as you ran through the dark forest away from the sounds of heavy breathing and snarls. You were terrified. Every beat of your heart could be felt in your throat as you tried to take in breaths to keep your energy up just enough to stay in front of whatever was chasing you. 

It didn’t seem to matter how hard you ran or what way you turned; you could almost feel the hot breath of it on your neck. Tears streamed down your face as you heard it growl your name; your eyes shut tightly as you begged for your life, only for your body to jerk awake as you hear your name once again. 

“Y/N… dear?” 

You weren’t in the forest and there was nothing chasing you. You were inside the palace but you had been moved from where you last remembered being. Shifting on the sofa, you whine, feeling your mother’s hand brush over your head as you try to sit up, feeling how stiff your body has become from sitting on the floor and sleeping on something that isn’t your bed. 

“Oh, darling. You look so weak. Couldn’t I take you to your bed?” 

Recoiling from her touch, you look around the room and towards the door, seeing that you weren’t moved far. The room where the doctors had been working on Mingyu was just across the hall. “No. Mingyu…” 

Brushing her fingers over your head, your mother nods and purses her lips when you refuse to leave. She knew you would. You were always stubborn and strong-willed. She wondered if your new husband had met this side of you and if he had known this side of you if he would have accepted the cost of your dowry. No doubt you were beautiful and lovely in many ways, but your stubbornness could cause issues in a marriage that your mother worried about. “Mingyu is out of surgery, Y/N. About an hour ago. He’s in his room, resting.” 

He had made it. Pushing her hand away, you sit up fully and try to slide from your mother, only to feel her hand wrap around your arm to stop you. “Mother, please. I want to go see him. I need to see him for myself.” 

“And I understand that, Y/N, but, I—I just, consider how this looks? I know that you two were close back home. Perhaps too close. Don’t make your husband regret his hospitality.” 

Shrugging her hand from your arm, you stand, giving her a look of contempt as she returns the look with more concern underlying. “I am checking on my friend. If Jihoon wants to be upset about that, so be it.” 

It was late afternoon now. You could feel the weight of the day resting on your shoulders as you made your way through the palace and towards Mingyu’s room. You knew your mother wasn’t wrong, but you hadn’t been lying. To you, there was nothing about what you were doing that was wrong. You had sat outside of the room where he had been in surgery most of the day until someone had moved you, so why would it be a shock to anyone that you would want to see him once he was out? 

Carefully pushing open his door, you glance around the dimly lit room as a frown quickly settles on your lips when you see Mingyu in his bed with the covers tucked under his arms. Bandages cover his chest and one of his shoulders, blood seeping through even as he sleeps with his brows furrowed so deeply. It broke you to see the man you knew to be so strong, so completely broken in front of you. 

You don’t worry about shutting the door all the way; instead, you move towards the bed and take Mingyu’s hand in yours, being careful not to jostle him in any way as new tears gather in your eyes and quickly fall on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I should have never asked you to come. You’d be safe and back home. I—” The words get caught in your throat on a sob as Mingyu’s nose wrinkles and he sighs in his sleep, giving you the first real sign that he is possibly going to be okay. 

Jihoon had finally found time to look for you again. He had found you sleeping against the wall after forcing himself to participate in a few meetings and decided to move you to the sofa, but now you weren’t there. He knew that Mingyu’s surgery had gone well; he was projected to recover to some degree, resembling being completely healed in a few months. Jihoon had been told that it was even possible that he would be well enough to travel in a week if his body took over healing as it should. 

Now Jihoon found himself in search of you, already knowing where you would be. He couldn’t blame you for wanting to see Mingyu. Even with as much as it made his chest feel heavy, he knew he would let you stay with him for as long as you wanted if that made you happy. Jihoon had done enough to disappoint you and to ruin your life in ways that you didn’t even understand yet. 

Hearing your sobs, Jihoon pauses outside of Mingyu’s door and looks down at the floor, watching the light shift on the floor in front of him through the cracked door. He hated that he was getting used to the sound of you crying. That wasn’t something anyone should grow accustomed to. 

“I hate this so much. Why were you even outside? You are so stupid, Mingyu.” You didn’t want to blame Mingyu or Jihoon for this. You wanted to blame whatever it was that attacked Mingyu and you wanted to blame yourself. “I’m so stupid.” 

"No, you aren’t.” 

You knew that Mingyu hadn’t spoken. The most he had done was sigh and shift some in his sleep. Furrowing your brows, you wipe your cheeks and turn towards the door, watching as Jihoon moves further into the room with a frown on his face. Perhaps your mother had been right. You shouldn’t have visited Mingyu; it had upset Jihoon. Whispering his name, you slide your hand from Mingyu’s and sniff back your tears, uncertain what to do as Jihoon gets closer, his eyes moving to the bed and over Mingyu before they move back to you. 

“I’m not here to rush you or make you leave, Y/N. I just—I was coming to check on you. You weren’t where I left you.” 

Letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you were even holding, you nod and settle back by Mingyu’s side, sliding your hand back into his as Jihoon wanders in the room near you. He had been the one to move you to the couch. You weren’t sure how that hadn’t dawned on you earlier. It makes sense. He had tried to feed you earlier; of course he’d want you somewhere at least a bit more comfortable. “I’m sorry, Jihoon.” 

“You don’t owe me anything. I wish you’d eat and rest, of course, but I won’t force it.” Quickly meeting your eyes before he moves to the window to look out over the courtyard as the sun starts to set, Jihoon takes a slow, deep breath and lets it out. “If—if you’d let me, I will get you something and bring it here even. Or if you will finally lay down, I’ll bring it to your room, or have it brought there so you don’t even have to see me.” Glancing over his shoulder at you, Jihoon sees Mingyu and the blood that is starting to stain the sheets draped over him and it’s a reminder that he did that. He’s the one who hurt your best friend. “I—I’m sorry this happened.” 

The way that Jihoon spoke made you feel like the tide was rising and that time was against him and you. It was as if you didn’t say something or save him that you might have to watch him drown as he swam out too far all while you watched from the shore. “It’s not your fault. You brought him back. You saved him—” 

“Y/N!” 

Sitting up straight, when Jihoon raises his voice, panic lacing it, you look from him to Mingyu as he winces in his sleep, causing you and Jihoon to pause until he settles once again. 

“I didn’t—’m sorry, fuck. I—I should just go.” 

The water was rising and you had a choice to make. You whine softly, closing your fingers tighter around Mingyu's. As you watch Jihoon walk towards the door, you suddenly stand up, dropping Mingyu’s hand and reaching for Jihoon's instead. Barely catching his fingers with yours, you once again whine Jihoon’s name. Coming to a stop, his head dropping as you take a step closer and sliding your hand fully into his. 

“I’ll eat in my room, but only if you join me.” You can see the apprehension in Jihoon’s eyes and how he glances towards the window, seeing how dark it’s gotten. “Please, Jihoon.” Wincing at your pleading, he meets your eyes and nods. 

“Okay.” Jihoon found it difficult to tell you no after disappointing you so often and seeing that heartbroken look in your eyes. The darkness terrified him, but there was no way to tell you that he was afraid to spend any time with you while the moon was in the sky. If he told you that he’d have to explain why, and then he would have to explain why Mingyu was laying in this bed still unconscious, so Jihoon didn’t tell you no. Instead, he let you lull him and the beast with your soft smile as he gave into his temptation and brushed his fingers over your cheek, feeling your warm skin under his touch. “I’ll be there soon.” 

You knew exactly why you had doubts about Jihoon keeping his promise to join you for dinner in your room, but as you sat at your window watching the moon rise, you tried not to let that doubt get the best of you. You were doing your very best not to let your mind wander back to Mingyu laying alone in his room covered in bandages and instead you did something you hadn’t done in a long time—you prayed. 

You weren’t even sure who you were praying to. There were many gods, goddesses, and deities in general that people believed in, but with your silent prayer for Mingyu’s recovery and Jihoon’s strength going forward, you send your words to whomever might be listening. You pray for yourself. Your own strength and ability to do what must be done as a wife and queen—that you might be worthy of Jihoon. 

“Are you sure?” 

Not dignifying Soonyoung’s question with an response, Jihoon shakes his head and gives one look to your door before meeting his butler’s eyes. He knew why Soonyoung was concerned. He wasn’t the only one sharing those concerns. Junhui had his own reservations when he was asked to prepare the late dinner. Wonwoo had shared gentle reminders of earlier conversations and his mother had simply given her blessing, hoping that the night might be fruitful. 

Fruitful. Jihoon knew what his mother meant, but how could she even be thinking of something like that right now? He wasn’t trying to bed you. That was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment. In fact, that was the farthest thing from his mind in general. It wasn’t that he didn’t see you in that manner. He’d be a fool to look at you and not lust after you. You were divine in his eyes and now you were his wife. It made it even harder not to give into lingering glances but today you were dealing with the stress of everything that had happened with Mingyu. Jihoon was going to your room to comfort you and to eat. Nothing more. 

The hushed voices and soft knock at your door bring you out of your whispered prayers and right back to the present. Jihoon had kept his promise. Why did that terrify you almost as much as him breaking it? Moving to your feet, you swallow hard, feeling your breath getting caught in your throat before clearing it so that you can finally speak, though it sounds strained. “Co—come in.” 

You had looked exactly the same before he had left you to get dinner ready, and yet you were taking Jihoon’s breath away as he stepped out of Soonyoung’s way, letting him push the tray into the room. Jihoon knew he was staring but at least your attention was taken up as you rushed forward, cooing over Soonyoung and the dinner. God, you really were too good for Jihoon. How he ever got lucky enough for you to end up in Aetherial Grove was a miracle. The idea of it made his stomach twist with anxiety even as butterflies overwhelmed him. He was so scared that he might hurt you in a way he wouldn’t be able to fix. 

“This looks delicious. It’s too much.” Sighing, you whine under your breath and reach for the tray as Soonyoung sighs at you, moving your hand away from it. “I can—” 

“Madame…” 

“Stop calling me that. You call him Jihoon. Do the same for me; call me by my name, please.” 

Lifting his eyes to Jihoon, Soonyoung watches the prince finally move into the room and towards the table as he places the dishes on it for you both to share. 

“If that’s what she wants, I’m okay with it, Soonyoung. We can handle the rest of this. Go rest.” 

The apprehension in Soonyoung’s eyes puzzles you at first. You wonder if he isn’t sure to take what Jihoon is saying seriously or if he isn’t sure if he wants to leave dinner alone without a servant present, but then the man puts on a dazzling smile and you can’t seem to figure out which one it was. You find yourself instead smiling back at him as he bows at the waist and hums softly, ready to excuse himself. 

“Alright. If either of you needs me or anyone else, you know how to get in touch. Goodnight, Y/N. Jihoon.” 

Nodding along with his words, Jihoon doesn’t pay anymore attention to Soonyoung as he leaves the room. His eyes are on you as you stand next to the table and he realizes this is his first dinner alone with you. If the circumstances were different, it might seem intimate or romantic, but tonight Jihoon pushes those thoughts aside and offers you a soft smile before moving to pull out your chair, letting you sit down first. “I’m happy that you decided to eat, Y/N and I—I’m glad you wanted me here.” 

Finding him to be forever the enigma, you smile along with Jihoon’s words, feeling your cheeks heating up. “I’m just glad you accepted. I honestly… Well, I just don’t think I want to be alone right now. I’d rather be with you.” 

Jihoon had been ready to move the last of the plates to the table when you had spoken, but he hadn’t been ready for your words. Letting out a breath, he smiles with his back turned to you, putting the plate back down on the tray to steady himself before trying again and this time moving it with ease to the middle of the table, still avoiding your eyes directly. “Then I—I’ll stay with you. However long you need me to tonight.” 

Two courses into the impromptu dinner, you pout into your wine glass as Jihoon leans back in his chair with his own wine glass resting on his fingers. It’s impossible for you not to admit to yourself that you have been struck with at least a bit of luck when it comes to your marriage. It might not be perfect, but you had seen worse pairings in arranged marriages before. Beautiful women paired with men their father’s age who expected them to be in bed ready for them every night. Handsome men who were stuck with wives who would sneak off with the stable boy not even after a year of marriage and yet you could look at Lee Jihoon for the rest of your life. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have—did I get something on my face?” Shifting in his chair, Jihoon lifts his free hand to rub at his lips, causing you to smile into a laugh that he finds infectious. “What? No, why are you laughing at me? Mon ange…” 

When had he started calling you that? Placing your fingers against your lips, you smile against them and turn your face away from Jihoon, trying to hide how shy he makes you feel. “Jihoon…” 

You were driving him crazy. No other woman had ever made Jihoon feel like this. Perhaps he could chalk it up to never getting the chance to know them, but even that didn’t feel like the answer. It all felt like it was leading up to you. You were made to be his. Some sort of cruel destiny where he might truly meet the love of his life and never fully get to love her the way he wanted to. “What is it?” 

This was insane; clearly you were insane or perhaps you had drank too much wine if the tension in the room had gotten so thick that you were once again looking at Jihoon with desire on your mind. So much had happened in just two days and it would be so selfish of you to attempt to act on your feelings while your best friend lay recovering in a room across the palace—and yet you find yourself staring at Jihoon, wondering if his promise was true. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I just—you are so handsome. It almost breaks my heart.” 

Run away. You should run away and never look back. Jihoon’s brain is screaming at him as he watches you from across the table, your eyes fixed on him in a way he’s never seen before. You didn’t know what you were saying. You were drinking and lost in the moment—or you were simply a woman in a room with her husband after her wedding. 

Letting out a deep breath at your compliment, Jihoon’s lips pull up slightly in a smile before he shakes his head. He wasn’t disagreeing with you, but he knew that there was a deeply ugly part of him that you had seen on more than one occasion and you had yet to meet it fully. He prayed you never would. If he had to confine himself to a cell, he would rather that be his life than you ever suffer that side of him. 

“I never want to break your heart, though I fear I have with my selfishness on many occasions already.” 

“It’s not important, Jiho—” 

“It is, Y/N. I’m sorry for my behavior. I’m incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful wife, and not only that, but a beautiful, caring, and understanding wife who wears her heart on her sleeve. You are stunning inside and out, darling.” 

Once again looking away from Jihoon, you look up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears gathering on your eyes from falling. He wasn’t wrong about some of the things he had said. He had broken your heart many times already, but his words were doing a very good job at patching some of those cracks. 

The moment the first tear slips down your cheek, Jihoon whispers your name and slides from his chair so he can move around the table to kneel on one knee in front of your chair. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so bad at this—at relationships. I’m sorry—” 

You had been kissed twice in your life. Once by Mingyu and then by Jihoon on your wedding day. Out of those two kisses, your wedding kiss had taken your breath away and made you realize that the one you and Mingyu shared had been between kids trying to figure out their way in the world. Your third kiss almost made you forget that you had ever kissed anyone besides Jihoon ever. You knew it was bold of you to kiss him and not let him have that opportunity, but between Jihoon’s words and having him in front of you, the moment had taken you over. 

Wrapping his fingers around your wrist as you rest your hand against his cheek, Jihoon furrows his brows tightly. He hadn’t expected you to kiss him, but he wasn’t going to pull away or push you away. At first he wasn’t sure what to do except return the kiss lightly, but then you sighed so softly and Jihoon’s mind almost exploded, sending a shiver through his body and right to his stomach, causing it to tighten as lust rushes through him. 

He knew that you didn’t know what you were doing to him. There was a chance that you didn’t know what you were doing at all. You were merely following your instincts, and there was no way that Jihoon was going to tell you they were wrong. He was fighting with himself to deepen the kiss, to let his teeth nip at your lips, to let his tongue taste your skin. You were set in front of him like a pure white rose and Jihoon felt like he needed to protect you and ruin you at the same time. “Shit—” Muttering against your lips, Jihoon tightens his grip on your wrist when you are the one who nips at his lips, sending another wave of lust through him. “Wait. Y/N…” 

You didn’t want to wait. This was what was supposed to happen on your wedding night. You had waited for Jihoon all night long until your body gave out and you had finally fallen asleep. Now you had him in front of you, your lips on his and he was telling you to wait? Whining on his lips, you grip at Jihoon’s shirt with your free hand, hearing him groan quietly, a sound that has you wanting to close your thighs tighter for any sense of release. “No, Jihoon. Please? Why?” 

Reaching for the arm of your chair, Jihoon misses the first time landing on your leg through your dress, sending panic through him when you smile against his lips. This was too much; he was barely holding himself back and now you were begging him. Tightening his fingers around the wooden arm of the chair, Jihoon groans again, tilting his head as he finally takes over the kiss, feeling your lips part so he can brush his tongue against yours. 

It felt like you were getting what you wanted. You had never kissed anyone like this before. You could taste Jihoon as his tongue glided along yours, his hand sliding from your wrist so he could cup your face, holding you in place. There was a familiar feeling between your thighs that you had only spoken to your married cousins and mother about. You weren’t completely naive. You knew what it felt like to be aroused, but you had never been this aroused in your entire life. You knew that if Jihoon reached between your legs, he would find you dripping from just his kiss. 

Groaning into the kiss, Jihoon’s hands shake slightly as he tries to keep himself in check. It would be so easy to pick you up and lay you on the ground under him. He could push your dress up and find what was his—pushing the thought from his head, Jihoon furrows his brows, slowly breaking the kiss, leaving gentle kisses on your cheeks. He was painfully hard in his pants but it wasn’t something that he would subject you to—his sweet, beautiful bride. 

“Wha—no. Jihoon?” Out of breath, you pout even as Jihoon presses his lips softly against your pout before leaning back on his knees to catch his own breath. It was clear he was done kissing you. Had you done something wrong? Did you not kiss well enough? Was it too obvious that you didn’t have as much experience? “What did I do wrong?” 

Closing his eyes to your question, Jihoon curses himself for letting the kiss go as far as it did. He wanted to give you what you so clearly wanted, but he also didn’t want you to hate him. Jihoon was terrified of what he might do to you if he let himself get in bed with you. He could already feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck, the beast curious with his current mood. The more awake the beast got, the more aggressive Jihoon was, and what if he couldn’t stop himself? The thought scared him more than you being a bit upset about not getting what you wanted. “Nothing, mon ange. You’re perfect. We have the rest of our lives; no need to rush.” 

Rush? Who was rushing what? You wouldn’t be fertile for the rest of your life. Jihoon knew that as well as you did. It wasn’t the main thing on your mind but the idea of not providing a royal heir loomed over your head like a waiting guillotine, knowing that the entire kingdom would be watching and waiting. “Oh, sure, but—” 

“We should get you to bed. It’s been a dreadfully long day for you.” Jihoon could almost see the gears turning in your head. He was afraid of what you were thinking about so he didn’t ask; instead, he moved to his feet and offered you his hand to lead you to your bedroom door. “Will you be okay?” 

What if you said no? Jihoon had promised to stay with you as long as you wanted. Furrowing your brows, you lift your fingers to your tingling lips, feeling confused by his actions and words after he had kissed you the way he had. “I suppose, but—” 

“Then I’ll leave you to sleep, darling.” Brushing his lips against the corner of your lips, Jihoon hums softly against your skin, squeezing your hand gently before letting go of you completely and turning away. “Goodnight.” 

Your eyes burn at Jihoon’s back the entire walk to your door. He knew you were upset. He had made a promise and in his own way he had broken it. Sighing as he leans against the door having a barrier between you and him, Jihoon closes his eyes and furrows his brow, feeling not only his cock throbbing in his pants but the rumble of the beast laughing at him inside of his head. 

13

“I’m fine, Y/N... Stop fretting over me. Seriously! I can lift a spoon.” 

It had been almost a week since Mingyu had been attacked in the forest. You had spent hours at a time every single day aiding in his recovery, watching him get stronger. Now you couldn’t stop the smile that sat on your lips as Mingyu scoffed at you, lifting his own spoon up to his lips as you sat on the end of his bed watching him eat. “You look so much better. Your color has returned and I thought I’d never see you smile again, Mingyu. I—I’m so sorry this happened.” 

Swallowing the bite of soup in his mouth, Mingyu furrows his brows and shakes his head at your words. You had said something similar, at least a dozen times every day over the week. It wasn’t your fault. He knew that much. He couldn’t remember all the details of his attack, but he knew that you hadn’t been there and you weren’t even remotely connected to it. “I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t stop saying that to me, I’m going to pour my soup on you. I’m the one that went out in the forest.” 

Even though you know it’s an empty threat, you lift your hands to safe guard yourself from Mingyu’s soup, watching him smile as he takes another small bite before leaning back against the headboard of his bed. He was going back home soon. Your parents had already left a few days before and now Mingyu’s father was due to be at the palace in a day’s time to help Mingyu on his trip back to Leressair. You were going to miss him. You had enjoyed having a companion around, a piece of home. 

“It’s not like it’s your fault either. You didn’t attack yourself, but I still don’t understand why you went out there. Seems reckless, even for you.” 

Laughing, clearly unamused at your jab at his actions, Mingyu shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t remember really. I mean bits and pieces, but not enough to really mean anything. Just that it was a bear and it was huge.” Seeing the concerned and terrified look on your face, Mingyu reaches to squeeze your fingers, rolling your eyes and adding. “And then your brave husband found me and saved my life. So now I am indebted to him for the rest of it, I suppose.” 

You did feel a sense of pride that Jihoon had been the one to find and rescue Mingyu. There had been a tension between the two of them that no longer seemed to exist after the incident and while you wished that it had never happened, you were much happier seeing them exist as something closer to acquaintances than enemies. “Oh, for the rest of this life and the next.” 

“I’ll accept this one. I don’t need anything after.” 

Taking a deep breath at hearing Jihoon’s voice, you watch Mingyu’s eyes shift towards his door before he lowers his head respectfully. 

“Monseigneur..” 

“How are you feeling today?” It was a question out of genuine concern. Jihoon had found himself almost as often as you watching Mingyu as he slept. He would watch the younger man’s chest rise and fall almost like a new father watching their child sleep, making sure that the next breath was coming. While neither you nor Mingyu knew his true reasoning, Jihoon’s regret for the situation was apparent in his actions. 

“Much better. I’m up often and many of the wounds are healing as the doctors hoped. Thank you for getting me to them so quickly, Monseigneur.” 

Lifting his hand, Jihoon dismisses Mingyu’s gratitude, not out of disrespect but because it’s not needed or wanted. He did what he had to. Not only as the soon-to-be crowned ruler of the kingdom, but also as the person responsible for Mingyu’s current condition. “Just pleased to see you looking healthier, and please just call me Jihoon.” 

You had tried to stay silent while Jihoon and Mingyu spoke but with Jihoon’s last request, you can’t stop the soft breath you release with a smile. That meant more to you than either one of them understood. 

“Uh, I understand that your father will be joining us here at the palace tomorrow. That is also the day of the coronation. I hope that you both will attend. Not for myself, but for Y/N.” 

Again, Jihoon had you speechless and staring at him with tears on the rims of your eyes. Did he know how much that gesture meant to you? Even if Mingyu said no, just the point that Jihoon had made that effort had your heart tight in your chest. 

“We would be honored, Monse—Jihoon. I’ve told her since she was young that she’d make one hell of a queen, so I would be a fool not to see the moment firsthand.” 

“Stop it…” Whining under your breath, without much thought, you push Mingyu’s arm, causing him to wince in pain. “Oh! Oh no!” Shifting on the bed, you carefully look over Mingyu’s bandages as he leans his head back, laughing. 

Jihoon moves closer, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a deep sigh. “If you live to see tomorrow.” Taking a step back as he teases you, Jihoon laughs when you whine his name, pouting up at him. “I’m sorry, darling. You are just too easy to tease. He’s fine.” 

14

You hadn’t thought that anything could possibly be more nervewracking than your wedding day, but that was until the day of the coronation. In reality, you didn’t matter nearly as much as Jihoon and yet you knew that there would be front and center with him accepting a duty that you would be expected to fulfill the rest of your life. 

Jihoon wasn’t faring much better and though he had been groomed for this day his entire life, he still felt like everyone was going to see through the mask. He had wondered multiple times throughout the morning if he was going to be able to handle the stress of the day. He could feel his anxiety rising in his chest, the roaring in his ears that told him that he wasn’t built for this—it all went silent when you said his name and took his hand. 

“Are you alright, Jihoon?” He had that same stoic look on his face and yet you could almost see the panic in his eyes as you stood behind Jihoon in the wings of the same church where the two of you had been married. There was a loud droning from the crowd of people waiting to see the new king be crowned, but it didn’t matter once you and Jihoon’s eyes met. 

“I—” Jihoon knew he could lie and tell you yes. He could put on a brave face even in front of you, but you were his wife and something in him told him that this was something he didn’t need to lie to you about. “Not really. I’m terrified, Y/N. I’m afraid I’m going to make a fool of myself, of you, and of my family.” 

That was unexpected. Though you and Jihoon had grown closer, he wasn’t an open book. He rarely shared his insecurities with you or showed any weakness at all. In this moment, he truly looked like your husband asking for help from his wife. “You aren’t going to make a fool out of anyone, Jihoon. You were born for this.” 

You can see Jihoon’s look of doubt and how he wants to argue with you but when you step in front of him, lifting your hand to brush his hair from his forehead, he stops. “It may not feel like it right now but you are a king and just because they are going to anoint you and add a crown doesn’t mean that you instantly are going to make a mistake.” 

You were good at this—making Jihoon feel less like a failure and like he was a real person. For his entire life, Jihoon had heard the same words that he was born for this but no one had truly expanded on it. You were the first person to make him actually feel like maybe those words were even close to true. “Maybe, but—but what if I do?” 

God, had you always been this beautiful? Of course you had; Jihoon knew that, but as you stood in front of him, your soft fingers moving to his jacket to smooth it down over his chest, he swore you really were an angel. Jihoon knew that any moment now the archbishop would begin the ceremony and you both would have to face the kingdom, but for now he was happy to just look at you, feeling his nerves settle. 

“Then we face it together.” 

It had just become another day when Jihoon was realizing how lucky he was to have you in his life. You didn’t seem real. He remembered every face and name of the women who had come to Aetherial Grove before you, but somehow you were making it better without even knowing it. Leaning to brush his lips against yours, Jihoon smiles at the small, surprised but happy sound you make before you return the kiss. He was falling in love with you more and more every day. 

“Pardon the intrusion, Monseigneur... Madame. It’s time.” 

You had felt anxious, afraid, and overwhelmed before the coronation had begun, but as you stood watching Jihoon being anointed and accepting his vows as king, you only felt pride. You had watched with stars in your eyes as the archbishop placed the crown on Jihoon’s head with a smile and spoke his final words, completing the ceremony.

“May the King live forever.” 

Jihoon felt the weight of the crown on his head. He had looked at it many times, be it sitting atop his father’s head or put away for safekeeping, but he never thought it would actually be where it sits now. Taking a deep breath, Jihoon closes his eyes, feeling the archbishop place one final kiss on the rings placed on his hand before his eyes turn to you. Your part of the ceremony was shorter and less significant, but to Jihoon it meant more. 

It was clear to those who knew you that you were nervous once again as the archbishop anointed you and guided you through your shorter vows. Jihoon tried to remain the stoic king he was supposed to be, but when the crown that his mother had worn for so many years was placed on your head, he felt such overwhelming pride. You were his wife and his queen. 

Taking your hand, Jihoon squeezes it gently, whispering his praises for how well you handled the ceremony before leading you to sit down in front of the congregation as the ceremony truly comes to an end. Not only does the weight of the coronation slowly start to ease from your body with each person leaving, but also when the crown is taken from your head and put away, reminding you that it isn’t something you have to bear every day. You would be the queen for the rest of your life but you wouldn’t be weighed down by that crown at every turn and you would have Jihoon by your side every step of the way. 

“Madame La Reine…” 

Narrowing your eyes at Mingyu’s voice, you can’t help how your smile pulls at your lips even as you try to look annoyed at his teasing. He looked even better than he had a day before, though he found himself leaning on his father more than he would have liked. 

“Stop that. I’m still me.” 

Mingyu’s grin makes you feel homesick for the briefest moment before you meet Jihoon’s eyes as he glances at you from over his mother’s shoulder. You were home and that man was your home. 

“Sorry, I can’t help it. You looked so regal with the crown and the jewels. I almost didn’t recognize you, Dove.” 

Mingyu’s father was slightly smaller than him, but his presence was always larger. He had been like a second father to you for almost your entire life from the moment that he and your father had become close friends. “Mingyu, manners. She may not want to be called her title, but perhaps the childhood names aren’t—” 

“It’s fine, I promise. I like the name. It reminds me that I’m the same girl from Thornwood no matter where I end up.” 

"Well, you’ll always be Dove to me.” 

You could see the sadness in Mingyu’s eyes. You weren’t sure what it was stemming from but it was clear as day as he shifted from one foot to the other with a soft sigh. 

“I—we’re leaving for Leressair. I just wanted to be able to congratulate you and say goodbye before we did.” 

There it was and now you felt the same sadness rush through you like a shockwave as you looked up at Mingyu. You knew he had to go. There were things to be done in Leressair just as there were things to be done in Aetherial Grove. Time didn’t stop just because you wanted it to. “Oh… So soon. I’ll miss you. Will you contact me? I want to know everything about how things are going and how you are feeling. Will you let me know if you need anything?” 

Mingyu knew this spiral. You would talk quicker and not let anyone else get a word in until the air in the room was all but used up. It was as if you thought if there was no space for anyone else to say that nothing could change or happen. You had done the same thing when you had left Thornwood. “Y/N… I’ll miss you too. May I hug you? Or would that be inappropriate?” 

There weren’t many people left in the church now and those who did remain knew who you were to Mingyu. They were the ones who lived in the palace and they were the ones who had helped care for him as he recovered over the last week. You didn’t care if they thought it was inappropriate or not as tears sat on the rims of your eyes and you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around Mingyu’s waist, resting your cheek on his chest, feeling his cheek against your head. 

“I’ll write as often as I can, but Y/N... I’m going to be fine. I’m stronger than you think.” 

Furrowing his brows, Jihoon sighs as his mother continues her conversation, noticing that her son had stopped really listening to her. He was paying more attention to what was happening behind her, which had her curious. Glancing behind her, Jihoon’s mother sighs under her breath as you step back from hugging Mingyu and wipe tears from your cheeks. You were too close to that man and Jihoon allowed it, though she knew why. He was feeling guilty for what had happened, though he shouldn’t. 

“Mon fils, are you listening to me? Would you rather see the duke off yourself? It seems your wife is doing a fine job of it.” 

Jihoon didn’t like the words that his mother was using as she spoke about you. You weren’t doing anything wrong. Jihoon wasn’t upset with you; he was concerned about you. Seeing you cry for any reason at all had Jihoon’s chest tightening and his stomach bubbling with anxiety. “What? No—no, maman. She’s—what are you talking about? She’s saying goodbye. Leave it alone. I don’t want to talk about this anymore anyway.” 

Of course he didn’t. Jihoon never wanted to talk about the difficult things and having an heir was a difficult thing. “I’m not doing anything to her, Jihoon, but this conversation can’t be over. You need to listen to me and seriously consider my words. You are king now and the kingdom is going to start speculating a due date for your queen. They don’t need a reason. They only need to know that you two were married to assume that you have made an heir.” 

That was a ridiculous notion. You weren’t pregnant. Jihoon hadn’t taken you to bed and it was no one's business—except it was. His mother was right. He was the king of Aetherial Grove and you were his queen. You had spoken to him about duty before and now his mother was doing the same. 

“Mon fils… I’m not trying to presume your—how you and Y/N spend your time, but we have to make sure that she is fertil—” 

“Maman! Enough. I’ll take care of it. I understand.”

15

“She insists, Y/N.” 

Sighing as you watch your things being packed up and moved out of your current rooms. Jieun was attempting to make the transition easier, but you had just gotten comfortable in your space and now Jihoon’s mother was adamant you were to take the proper room as queen. 

“You’ll be much more comfortable in a larger area, Y/N. I have so much less stuff now.” 

You hadn’t realized that she was in the room. You always tried to at least appear grateful or happy around Jihoon’s mother, but sometimes it was difficult. Forcing a bit of a smile, you turn towards her and take a steady breath before letting it out slowly into your words. “I only worry about your comfort, Mad—” 

“Please call me anything else. My name or maman, like Jihoon does. How will I stand it when you have children running about the palace and you are still calling me Madame?” 

Children. That had been on her mind often as of late. She had made it known just as often. Clearing your throat, you force a small laugh, lifting your hands as if to say she’s right, because she always was. “Of course, maman.” You choose the latter, to call her mother, hoping it might have the desired effect and it does. Jihoon’s mother’s face softens, a small coo slipping from her lips as she moves towards you, lifting her hands to cup your face. 

“Beautiful, sweet girl. I’m so very proud of you. Now… go. Get settled in your new rooms so that you can make yourself ready for your husband.” 

You knew that your face had gone hot under her hands, but you just laughed awkwardly before stepping back and looking down at your hands. It was clear to everyone in the room what she had meant but you had doubts that Jihoon would come to your room. It had been three weeks since you had gotten married and he had yet to show up for that reason. “Mm, yes. I’ll go... Do—do that. Have a good evening.” 

Jihoon’s heart was in his throat. He had put this off for as long as he could. He had listened to his mother’s nagging for weeks at this point, along with the constant questions at meetings as to if things had been “fruitful” with the queen. The word fruitful was beginning to lose its meaning. It was beginning to make Jihoon feel sick every time it was uttered. 

It wasn’t as if Jihoon had not found himself at your door more than once over the last few weeks. He had thought of you often—too often, hearing the sweet sounds you had made when he had just simply kissed you. Those memories led Jihoon right to your door, where he stood with his pants tight and his heart beating hard in his chest. Each and every time he would go back to his room out of fear of what might happen, but today the nagging had gotten to be too much. His mother had even moved you into the queen’s rooms, giving him fewer walls of separation between you and him. 

This was a horrible idea. Jihoon could almost always tell when he was getting close to shifting. It wasn’t going to happen tonight, but it was so close he could almost taste you in the air. Every sense was heightened and he felt on edge as he walked to your door, leaning his forehead against it before knocking. 

You were already dressed for sleep when you heard the knock at your door. The first instinct you have is that perhaps Jieun forgot to do something or to tell you something, but then Jihoon says your name. The floor is cold under your feet as you make your way to the door. Slipping your robe over your shoulders, you put your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating so hard and loud that you are afraid that Jihoon might hear it. 

Cracking the door at first, you meet Jihoon’s eyes, a shy smile on your lips as you whisper a hello before pulling the door open so he can come in if he wants to. You don’t want to presume that you know why Jihoon is at your room after dark, but you have hope. “Do—do you want to come in?” 

Everything about you made Jihoon want to both run away and also stay exactly where he was. You were the picture of perfection in your white dressing gown and deep red robe hanging from one shoulder. Jihoon could see how nervous you were that he was there, but his own nerves matched, if not tenfold. “Um, yes, if you don’t mind.” 

Moving into your room, Jihoon sighs softly, glancing around. He had spent plenty of time in these rooms with his mother but they had looked completely different. You had managed to make the space your own and somehow that comforted Jihoon. Everything about you comforted him. 

“Is everything okay? You don’t normally visit me so lat—” 

“No, I know I don’t. I just—” His brows furrowing as he pushes his thumb into his palm, Jihoon scoffs, trying to think how to go about this. How did one approach bedding their wife when it was a duty to do so? Shaking the thought from his head, Jihoon smiles and meets your eyes, reaching for your hand and brushing his thumb along the back of your hand as you tilt your head curiously. “I’m not very good at this.” 

Your heart had been beating loudly before; now it was threatening to beat out of your chest as Jihoon looked at you the way he did and when he stepped towards you. This was happening? You were scared but excited. Even though you were inexperienced, you could still feel the arousal beginning to burn in your lower abdomen. You just hoped that you wouldn’t mess this up. 

Such a sweet and innocent look in your eyes that made Jihoon want to die on the spot. Someone like you shouldn’t be around him, especially when he wasn’t completely himself. When he was so close to shifting, his inhibitions were lower, he was more aggressive, and he found himself needing or at least wishing for someone in his bed. For the last year Jihoon had stopped giving into the beast and seeking out women he would never see again, but now you were standing in front of him with those doe-like eyes, not knowing your husband was a predator.  

“You are so beautiful, mon ange. Can I kiss you?” 

Jihoon had said he wasn’t very good at this, and yet you were practically whimpering as you told him yes to a simple kiss. You’d take anything because the heat of his eyes on you was like standing next to an open flame. You needed him to help you get through this and right now he looked like a lighthouse guiding you home. “Yes, please. Kiss me.” 

You shouldn’t sound so sweet and desperate. God, you really didn’t know what you were doing to him. Cupping your face in his hand, Jihoon brushes your cheek with his thumb before delicately placing a kiss on your pretty lips and listening to your whine. It wasn’t enough; he knew it wouldn’t be. It hadn’t been enough for him. “Shh—don’t talk right now.” 

The words confuse you, but you nod, feeling Jihoon’s lips find yours once more. Maybe this was how it went. You weren’t supposed to speak to your husband while you were in bed, but the deeper his kisses got, the more urgent they got, and you struggled to stay silent. Whines and half-spoken words slip from your breath as Jihoon’s hand finds your waist, pulling you close to him and letting you feel how warm his body had gotten. 

Jihoon almost felt as if he had a fever. He needed to get some of his clothes off; he could already feel his cock beginning to strain against his pants as you whined his name. Placing his finger against your lips, Jihoon meets your wide eyes as he uses his free hand to slide your robe down your arms, letting it fall to the ground at your feet. “Try not to talk, mon ange. I need you to listen to me.” Every time you spoke, it was like a red hot poker being stuck against his skin. The beast was very much awake and you had caught not only Jihoon’s interest but it’s interest as well. 

“‘M trying, Jihoon.” 

He knew you were. Your brows were knitted together so tightly and with every brush of his lips against bits of your exposed skin, you were almost choking on your moans to keep them silent. “I know. You’re doing well, baby. Come here.” 

A gasp slips from your lips when Jihoon’s hands slide over your backside and he squats down just enough to hoist you up. Surprised, you wrap your arms around his neck and cross your ankles around his back as he walks towards your bedroom door with his eyes fixed on yours. Not only had he shocked you by picking you up, but Jihoon had called you baby. He had your heart swooning and the butterflies in your stomach dancing by the time he laid you on your bed and laid over you, his lips finding yours again. 

Your lips were soft and even your muffled moans were like music to Jihoon’s ears as he nipped at your lips, feeling you arch your back, pushing your breasts towards him. Leaning back to look down at you, Jihoon smirks as he carefully unties the top of your dressing gown, watching you turn your head away from him shyly. Such a pure, perfect little flower he had under him—he had to keep himself in check. 

“Is this okay? If I see you?” 

Nodding with your head still off to the side, you whine when Jihoon’s thumb and forefinger grip your chin, gently turning your head back to the center so he can look at your face. 

“Don’t look away from me. You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N. You don’t have to hide anything that is mine.” 

That possessive nature wasn’t a natural thing for Jihoon. Of course he wanted you all to himself and he would fight for you, but he didn’t possess you. The beast brought something deep out of him and when he looked at you and smelled how sweet you were, it made Jihoon’s mouth water with desire. You were his—his wife.

“You are mine, right?” Gently tugging your gown down your arm, leaving just the top of your breasts exposed, Jihoon groans when you whine. “Aren’t you?” 

Warm breath fans over your neck and along the top of your chest before Jihoon’s lips walk in gentle kisses over every bit of your exposed skin as he waits for you to answer. Not wanting to break his rule about speaking, you nod as your fingers grip the blanket under you tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded. You had never felt like this in your life. No one had ever made you feel this desired or aroused until you met Lee Jihoon. 

Glancing up at you, Jihoon grins when you nod, staying silent. You were a good girl, trying to listen to what you were told and thank God for that. He was hanging on by a thread. “My pretty wife..." Muttering the words mostly to himself as he eases your gown further down your body, exposing more of your skin to him, Jihoon furrows his brows to just how perfect you are. Every curve, mole, scar, and blemish is like a work of art in front of him waiting to be explored. 

“Ah—Jihoon.” Pressing your head back against the blankets, you moan his name when Jihoon’s lips brush over your nipple, causing chillbumps to erupt along your skin. You hadn’t meant to speak but the feeling had surprised you so much that it had slipped from your lips before you realized. 

Nipping at the bud, Jihoon growls under his breath hearing you let out a choked sobbing moan as you try to pull back from his teeth. “Said to be quiet. I need for you to shu—” Stopping himself, Jihoon rests his forehead on your breast and takes a deep breath, bringing himself back down. “Please, baby? Try for me.”

Tears were sitting on the rims of your eyes out of fear of disappointing Jihoon. You were afraid he would leave you wanting because you couldn’t listen to him and follow one simple request, but again you nod as his thumb gently massages into your hips over your bunched-up gown.  

“Lift your hips. Good girl.” Jihoon felt as if he could grip the gown in his hands in half as he looked at you naked in front of him. He wanted to bury his cock inside of you so deep that you’d have an imprint of him left inside of you for weeks—that you’d crave him as much as he was craving you right now, but Jihoon wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t as much of an animal as the beast was trying to make him be. You truly seem as pure as he imagined as you shyly placed your hand over the center of your legs and bit your lip out of nerves. 

Sliding off the bed, Jihoon drops your gown to the floor and lets your watch as he rids himself of his shirt, letting your eyes slowly take in whats in front of you. “I am going to ask you a question and you can speak, okay, darling?” Waiting for you to nod, Jihoon sighs as he glances down at his pants undoing them, feeling your eyes on him still as he speaks. “I want the truth and I want you to know I won’t be upset or surprised either way you answer.” 

Fear makes its way through your mind as you wait for Jihoon’s question and as you watch him get undressed. You weren’t sure what was making you more nervous, not knowing what he might ask or seeing him completely. With your voice small, you nod and whisper, "Okay.” 

Jihoon knew the answer before he even asked it; his thumbs pushed into the top of his pants, but he needed to hear you say it. “Will I be your first?” There was a small nagging part of him that wondered if Mingyu had gotten to you first, if sometime in your past with him the man had managed to talk you into letting him— 

“Yes, Jihoon.” 

Of course you wouldn’t have let anyone talk you into anything. You were perfect. Sighing out a deep breath, Jihoon nods approvingly before pushing his pants down, letting them fall to the floor. Perhaps he should have gone slower and made sure you were ready, but Jihoon watches as your eyes widen before you turn your head away as if to give your husband privacy to be naked. 

“Mon ange… Look at me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” 

It wasn’t that simple. You had seen Mingyu shirtless before and even that had sent your head into a tailspin, but seeing all of Jihoon and knowing that—that would be going inside of you—was almost too much to handle. Glancing towards him, you quickly look up at the ceiling as Jihoon laughs quietly, moving towards the bed, sliding his hand along your thigh, feeling the chillbumps once again covering your skin. 

“You are truly perfect. Here… move this.” Guiding your hand from between your legs, Jihoon groans under his breath, realizing it might have been a mistake. You were drenched with arousal and Jihoon could feel the hair beginning to stand up on the back of his neck even as he pressed a kiss to your fingertips, collecting the slick left on them before licking his lips clean. God, you tasted like a dream. He had to have you. He’d die if he didn’t. “Need you to stay quiet again for me, baby.” 

Why did you have to be quiet? How were you going to be quiet? Jihoon was kissing your leg and not just that; he was kissing the inside of your thigh, getting so close to your pussy—to where you needed him the most. Closing your fingers around the blanket, you point your toes and cry out in surprise when you feel Jihoon’s tongue run between your folds for the first time. You hadn’t meant to make a sound but the feeling had been so shocking and it had felt so good, you didn’t know what to do. 

Groaning to your taste, Jihoon pulls back from between your legs just enough to glance up at you, hearing your yelp. “Don’t.” He knew it was a lot to ask of you, especially when he buries his face right back into your pussy, letting his tongue circle your throbbing clit. He needed this to survive now, only this—only you and your body—that was what the beast was telling him as he growled loudly against your folds, his hands gripping your legs tightly, keeping you in place even as you squirmed. 

“Ah—” Gritting your teeth, you try even harder to stay quiet. You alternate between biting your cheeks to biting your lips to finally using your own hand to cover your mouth as you whine loudly behind it. There was a pressure building inside of you that you weren’t going to be able to stop and Jihoon didn’t seem to be stopping until he got what he wanted. Closing your thighs around Jihoon’s head, you lift your hips towards his mouth when you feel the pressure finally release. 

Easing your legs apart, Jihoon licks his lips, moving his eyes along your body as you try to calm down from your orgasm. He wasn’t done with you. He didn’t even want to take a break. Logic told him to take his time, to give you time, but animal instinct told him to take—and it was stronger than his logic as the moon shined high in the sky. 

“Taste so fucking good. Keep your legs open for me.” Using his thumbs to spread your folds, Jihoon spits onto them, watching you wiggle almost uncomfortably as he turns his right hand palm up before easing one finger into your tight hole, feeling you instantly clench down around it. 

You weren’t ready to keep going. You felt exhausted and your legs were shaking so hard that you felt like you wouldn’t even be able to walk if you wanted to. Whining Jihoon’s name and feeling his finger pushing into you, you reach for his wrist with one hand and grip the bedding under you with the other. “Wait—hurts.” 

Hearing you speak, Jihoon rolls his eyes and rests his head against your thigh, looking at your fingers resting on his wrist. He didn’t register what you had said, only that you were speaking— no, you were whining. “I told you not to speak. Didn’t I?” You push your feet down on the bed, a soft sob slipping from your lips and Jihoon eases a second finger into you, marvelling at how your pretty little pussy sucks him in. He can’t help but imagine it around his cock, feeling it throbbing against the bed, leaking profusely. 

It should feel good. That was what you had been told by every one of your cousins. Your husband should want to listen to how to make you feel good, especially the first time, so why was yours telling you to be quiet as his fingers painfully stretched you before you were ready? Tightening your hand around Jihoon’s wrist as tears run down your cheeks, you say his name louder, lifting your hips in an attempt to get away from him, only to feel him push you back down harshly. 

“What the fuck do you think—” With his thumb digging into your hip, Jihoon meets your eyes, seeing the fear and pain in them as tears drip off your cheeks. Carefully, he eases his fingers out of you and glances between your legs, making sure he hasn’t hurt you in any way, before sliding back on the bed, running his hand over his lips, shocked by himself. 

“I’m sorry, Jihoon. I just need a few minutes and then I can try again. It just felt—” 

“I need to go.” 

Sitting up in your bed, you watch horrified as Jihoon quickly pulls his clothes back on, keeping his eyes down from you. 

“What? No! Jihoon, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to mess it up. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before.” 

God, Jihoon hated himself. He hated himself more than he had ever hated anyone or anything hearing you struggle to speak through your sobs. He knew he was breaking your heart again, but to him, that was better than hurting you or forcing something on you. 

“It’s not that, Y/N! I just—I have to go!” 

What had you done that was so wrong that Jihoon couldn’t even look at you as he left your room? Had you messed up that badly? Falling back on the pillows, hearing the door to your room slam shut, you draw your legs up towards your stomach and let go, sobbing loudly, not caring who or what might hear you as grief rips through you. You had Jihoon. You finally felt like his wife. You felt desired by him and now you felt discarded and completely alone again. 

16

You had only fallen asleep due to exhaustion. Now you were wandering the palace, feeling like everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like everyone knew that you had failed to not only fulfill your duty as Jihoon’s wife but as queen. The only person you had yet to see was Jihoon. It was like he was avoiding you. Quickly, you find out that you weren’t wrong in your suspicions. 

“I don’t want to deal with this bullshit today, Soonyoung! Tell Wonwoo to cancel it. I’m not doin—” Staring at you in the doorway to his study, Jihoon cuts off his own words, swallowing hard at the look on your face. He could see how exhausted you seemed to be and how swollen your eyes were even from across the room. You had been crying again. He couldn’t do this. Not today. “I’m busy, Y/N.” 

“You’re always busy, but couldn’t I have—” 

“Must you always insert yourself where you aren’t wanted or needed?” 

Visibly taken aback by Jihoon’s words, you put your hand on your chest, feeling your heart shatter. “This isn’t fair.” Your words are quiet, matching the stillness of the room as Jihoon stares at you and Soonyoung stands uncomfortably by his desk, unsure what to say or do. “Please talk to me for five minutes, Jihoon. You owe me that.” 

Lifting his hand to dismiss Soonyoung, Jihoon leans back in his chair and runs his fingers through his hair, hearing the rumbling in his ears as you walk into the room past Soonyoung, letting him close the door behind him. It was a horrible idea for him to be alone with you. It was already later in the afternoon and Jihoon had already argued with nearly every single person he had come into contact with today. He didn’t need you to be another. “I really don’t have time for this today.” 

He never had time for you. That was what your brain and heart were telling you. This was how the rest of your life was going to be. Your life with Jihoon had been a series of extreme ups and downs and you were the lowest you had ever been at this moment. Wiping under your eyes, you nod, moving closer to his desk, knowing he would probably only give you exactly the five minutes you requested. “Then I thank you for your generosity in allowing me to speak to you. I just need you to explain to me what’s wrong with me, Jihoon. Why do I disgust you so much that you would treat me like you do and leave me like you did? I need to understand what I can do to change and be who you want me to be, because I fear you are stuck with me and all I can do is apologize for that.” 

Your words take the air from Jihoon’s lungs and leave him speechless at first. He knew you were unhappy and upset after what had happened last night, but the idea that you thought that he found you disgusting made Jihoon’s mouth feel dry like a desert that hadn’t seen rain in centuries. “You don’t have to change a thing. There’s nothing wrong with—” 

“That’s obviously not true. If that were true, you would have stayed last night, and we would have... Things would not have ended like they did. Jihoon, you wouldn’t even look at me when you left.” 

Jihoon could feel the frustration rising in him. It wasn’t your fault that he was so quick to anger but why couldn’t you just let this go? Why did you have to push this today? If you could give him just one more day to get this out of his system, he’d be calmer, but no, here you were cutting him off and raising your voice. “I’m not dealing with this shit today, Y/N. I don’t have to and I won’t.” 

Shocked by Jihoon’s response, you take a step closer to his desk, watching him recoil further into his chair. “Are you kidding me? You don’t think that you owe me—” 

“I don’t owe you anything! I–fuck! Go to your room. It’s getting late and you know the rules.” 

Surely Jihoon had to be kidding. There was no way that he thought that he could get away with talking to you like this today after everything the two of you had been through over the past few months. This sounded more like the Jihoon that had ruined your bracelet after your engagement party. “No! I don’t have to just obey when you speak, Jihoon!” 

Standing up quickly from his seat, Jihoon barely flinches when the wooden chair hits the wall with a crash that causes you to gasp and take a step back. “Yes, you do. Did you forget your vows, my sweet wife? To love, honor, and obey. So fucking obey and go to your goddamn room and lock the door for the night. I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” 

When you don’t move quickly enough for Jihoon, your mouth opening and closing in disbelief, he sighs loudly, moving around his desk to grab your arm, feeling you struggle against his grip as he leads you towards the door opening as you protest. 

“Let me go, Jihoon! God, you are a monster!” 

Making you walk towards your room, Jihoon growls under his breath as his eyes start to shift to golden. “You have no fucking idea, darling.” Seething, Jihoon tugs open your door and pushes you inside, letting you stumble as you try to turn around to stop him before he slams the door in your face. “Lock it!” Standing still, Jihoon stares at your door until he hears the lock click into place and only then does he turn back down the hall towards the front of the palace, feeling the night calling to him.

You were confused and pissed off by how Jihoon had treated you. Rubbing your hand along your bicep, you wince in pain, feeling the bruise forming under the skin from how hard he had gripped your arm, forcing you into your room just a few short hours ago. Now the sun was setting and you were feeling less afraid and more annoyed. 

Fuck Jihoon. Fuck his stupid rules. The room felt small despite it’s size and you felt like you were suffocating. Looking at the door, you nod firmly as you make up your mind, turning the lock to disengage it before pulling the door open quickly, half expecting Jihoon to be angrily waiting on the other side. Instead, you find no one, just a dimly lit hallway like always. “He’s ridiculous.” 

It doesn’t cross your mind what had happened to Mingyu. None of the ghost stories or animal attacks so much as even visit your thoughts as you tug your robe around your dressing gown and walk confidently into the hall with one goal in mind—you were going to go outside. You were going to enjoy the night air for the first time in months. 

It had been so long since you had seen the stars from more than your bedroom window. Stepping out onto the courtyard, you smile up at the sky as you take in a deep breath of fresh air, taking a left into the gardens, intending to take a short walk. You were being rebellious but you weren’t planning on being recklessly stupid. You weren’t going to leave the palace grounds. 

The flowers and trees looked different under the moonlight. They felt different under your fingertips somehow too. Perhaps that was the subtle dew that was settling on them as the nightair shifted into something a bit colder, causing you to hold your robe a bit tighter around yourself. You loved how quiet it was out here. There were no echoing voices from the palace. You weren’t hearing Jihoon’s voice screaming in your head; instead, there was just the gentle sound of the wind and crickets. Or there had been crickets. 

Tilting your head, you try to strain your ears to listen for the sounds of the bugs when a sudden exhale from just outside the wall startles you, making you jump and cover your mouth to keep from screaming. It didn’t sound human, but it did sound large and it was moving. 

Keeping your body low, though you know whatever is on the other side of the wall can’t see you, you listen to the deep breaths of the creature and follow it along the line of the wall towards the large golden gate. You know you should stop where you are; logic is screaming for you to stay hidden but your curiosity takes over when you catch sight of the large bear just outside of the courtyard gates. 

You had never seen a bear so large in your life. Its fur was dark and the pattern was unusual to you for a bear. It didn’t seem like any sort of bear that you had ever read about or been told about—this was something new. Taking a step out towards the gate, you think the bear is far enough away from the gate that perhaps you can watch it head back towards the forest, but your shoe catches a pebble and its head turns, alarmed by the sound, and catches your eyes. Golden? You could see them from here almost clearly. You were transfixed and terrified, stuck in place until the bear rushed the gate, hitting it so hard that you realized what you were doing and took a step back with a gasp only to loose your footing and fall backwards on your butt.

“Oh my god…” 

When you speak, the bear seems to focus on your face, a look of recognition in it’s eyes before it growls, scratching at the ground near your leg through the gate. Kicking your legs to get away from the claws you whine when you feel your gown get tugged, pulling you back towards where you were trying to escape, drawing your eyes down to where the bear’s claws were digging into the ground and your gown. “No, no! Please!” 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you try to pull yourself free, but then searing pain tears through your thigh when the bear’s claws tear through your gown, skin, and muscle. Screaming out of fear and pain, you lay back on the ground, feeling hands on your waist as someone pulls you away from the gate until the snarling of the bear is so distant that you can barely hear it anymore. 

“Madame!” You looked pale, blood was seeping from the wound on your thigh quickly and Wonwoo was starting to panic. “Fuck!” Pulling you into his arms, the steward is able to get you inside the house and on to the same floor where they had laid Mingyu the morning Jihoon had found him. 

“What happened?!” 

“You know what happened! Look at her leg, Jieun. Soonyoung get the doctor, now!” 

17

Some nights that Jihoon would shift felt more like a nightmare than others. Last night had to be the worst nightmare of Jihoon’s life—except it hadn’t been a dream. Rubbing his fingers over the silk in his hand, Jihoon sits up in a panic, putting his free hand on his chest, struggling to breathe, remembering your frantic screams of pain as Wonwoo managed to get you away from him. What the fuck had he done? 

Jumping to his feet, Jihoon groans to the pain in his head and body as he pushes through it, starting the run back towards the palace, feeling the rocks biting into his feet. Normally he would wait for Soonyoung to find him and to give him clothes but he didn’t care today. You were hurt or possibly worse. Jihoon had to find you and make sure that you were okay. He had to fix this. How the fuck could he fix this? 

“Jihoon!” Sliding off the back of his horse, Soonyoung shakes his head, pulling the bundle of clothes from the back of the saddle, as he watches Jihoon run past him naked and panicking. He had seen all sides of his best friend before. The anger, the sadness, and the panic, but never had he seen him be willing to run through the forest completely naked. “Jihoon, stop!” 

Hearing Soonyoung’s voice, Jihoon turns back towards him and runs to him, grabbing his shirt as he tries to keep his emotions in check, quickly failing as the panic slips through. “Is she alive?” 

“Yes, yes! I’ll get you back to her, but put on some clothes first. You can’t just run to the palace like this. You—” Sighing seeing the desperate look in Jihoon’s eyes, Soonyoung grips Jihoon’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re the king. Pull yourself together.” 

Jihoon wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep himself together. The entire ride back to the palace Soonyoung reminded him to remain calm on multiple occasions until they reached the stable and he was able to go search for you. It was clear that the others in the palace were on high alert. This was different from any other time that Jihoon had attacked or killed anyone. It wasn’t even that it was you; it was that you were the queen. 

“Where is she?” 

Wonwoo knew that Jihoon would be back soon. He could see that the man looked worse for wear, but he always did after a night in the forest. He would prefer if he bathed and took care of himself before going to see you, but the look in Jihoon’s eyes told him that wasn’t going to happen. “In her room with the doctor. Sire!” When Jihoon doesn’t stop, his steps quick towards the hallway that would lead him to you, Wonwoo sighs, “Jihoon!” 

Tears were already sitting on the rims of Jihoon’s eyes when he turned around to meet Wonwoo. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else before he saw you. He needed to see you or else he was going to die right there on the spot. His heart would give out from guilt and grief. “What!” 

“She was asking for you all night. I told her that you were out. I couldn’t explain where.” 

Leaning his head back to try to keep the tears from spilling over, Jihoon nods and sniffs hard, knowing that he had hurt you in so many ways. He wasn’t even there when you needed him the most, when you were asking for him while you were scared and in pain. He was a failure and a monster. Just like you had called him.  

You had been in and out of consciousness over the last few hours since the attack. You weren’t feeling much of the pain from the medicine, which was also helping you to sleep. Even now as the doctor changed out your bandages, his brows furrowed at the deep gashes he had stitched closed, you barely flinched, and you didn’t notice Jihoon moving into the room, his eyes glossing over at the sight of you. 

“Is—will she be okay?” 

The doctor hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the room, so when Jihoon spoke, the older man sighs, lifting his hand to his chest to calm himself down before looking towards him and lowering his head in respect. “Yes, sire. The butler was able to get me to her quickly and I stopped the bleeding. There will be scarring, but the queen will be fine as long as we keep infection from settling in the wounds.” 

Nodding along with his words, Jihoon moves closer as the doctor finishes up his task, moving from your bedside, allowing Jihoon to take his place at your side. You looked so small and fragile as you slept. Jihoon felt like his heart was being crushed as he looked over your sweet face and then down at your thigh, where blood was already beginning to seep through the bandages that the doctor had just replaced. 

All of the emotions that Jihoon had been trying to keep at bay come to the surface with that blood, knowing that he did this to you. You were going to be in pain because of him. Tears stream down Jihoon’s face as he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his hand, his elbow on his knee just letting you rest. He didn’t want to disturb you—he didn’t want to do anything to cause you discomfort ever again. 

“Jihoon?” 

Your voice brings Jihoon back to the moment and causes his shoulders to shake as he chokes back a sob hearing how weak you sound. Sniffing back his tears, Jihoon licks the tears from his lips and opens his eyes to meet yours before taking your hand and squeezing it gently, unsure what to even say. 

“Where were you? I—” Wincing as you try to move in the bed wanting to sit up, you fall back down on your pillows, feeling Jihoon helping you get back to where you were, his fingers brushing over your cheek. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I—I don’t even…” How was he going to lie to you again? He couldn’t tell you that he did this. How could he? “I was called away last minute and I was out—” 

“What? That makes no sense.” Shaking your head, you sniff back your own tears, knowing he is lying to you. “Jihoon, I was alone and afraid. I just—please don’t lie to me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon tries to think of what to say next, his eyes moving from your face to your leg and back multiple times. You find yourself wondering if he is disgusted by it and what scars will remain. Reaching for the sheet near your leg, you pull it over your bandages and lower your head in shame, causing Jihoon’s resolve to break. 

“Fuck—Y/N. I—” Choking on his own sob, Jihoon shakes his head, moving to his feet even as you reach for him, starting to feel concerned and confused by his reaction. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen to you again. I swear.” 

“You couldn’t have prevented—” Watching Jihoon turn and move out of your bedroom, you force yourself to sit up despite the pain, wanting to stop him even though you are unable. “Jihoon!” 

Even hearing you yell his name sends Jihoon down a darker spiral, his fingers tugging at his hair as he leans against your closed door, the tears dripping off his cheeks and on to his shirt. 

“Sire?” 

Wonwoo… Closing his eyes at hearing Wonwoo’s voice, Jihoon knocks his head back against the wooden door as the thought comes to him of what he has to do and who would help him do it. If anyone in this palace would listen to him, it was Wonwoo. 

“I need you to help me with something.” 

“Okay, what—” 

“And Y/N… she doesn’t need to know.” 

18

It had been a week and a half since the attack and everyone in the palace was acting off. They were being too nice to you. You knew that you were queen, but this went beyond that. It went beyond being injured... something was wrong and Jihoon was nowhere to be found. 

“Wonwoo?” 

You were back again. Humming along with your questioning voice, Wonwoo gestures along with what he wants a few of the other servants to do, barely giving you a second glance even as you stand in front of him. 

“Where is he?” 

“I told you, Madame, he is away on business.” 

He had told you many times over the past week and every single time it smelled like shit. Jihoon didn’t go places. He didn’t do business outside of Aetherial Grove. 

“Which kingdom again?” 

“Multiple kingdoms, Madam. Is there anything else? Jieun can see to it. Excuse me.” 

All of Jihoon’s things were still in his room. How and why would he leave without a single item? There was something wrong and you weren’t going to just take this lying down. There was something you were missing; you just had to find it. 

There were so many places in the palace that you had yet to see that you discovered in your search for clues on where Jihoon had really gone. There were multiple staircases that you had yet to go up or down. Some led to rooms you had seen by other avenues and others took you by surprise when you discovered another study overlooking the garden. But it was the staircase that led down past the servants quarters that shocked you the most. 

From the outside, looking in, the palace of Aetherial Grove was grand and tall. It never dawned on you that anything menacing might lie inside the intricate golden gates and beneath her marble floors. What you found was dark and secluding as you stayed in the middle of the aisle among the empty cells of the dungeon. 

While it made you feel better that the dungeon wasn’t overflowing with people begging you to be freed, it still made you feel oppressed as you wrapped your arms around yourself, searching deeper and deeper and wondering who might have been there at one point. Thornwood did not have a dungeon; there had never been a need for one. Your mother had read you old stories of kingdom’s with dragons and princesses locked away in their dungeons, and now as you walked around one, you shuddered at the thought. 

It seemed to go on forever in the dim light. The cells as dark as the walls, you were about to give up and return to the upper floors of the palace when shuffling from a cell to your right startles you. It had to be a trick of your mind and nothing more, but as you got closer, you could hear panicked breaths behind the thick iron cell door.

“He—hello? Is there someone in there?” 

Covering his head with his hands, Jihoon knows he has to be imagining you. It wouldn’t be the first time since he had made Wonwoo put him in the dungeon that he had started to hallucinate. Shaking his head, muttering no, no, no, he laughs a bit manically under his breath as he glances up towards the small, barred window, seeing fingers gripping the iron. “Stop it…” 

Jihoon’s voice sends a shiver down your spine and for a moment you stare at the door in front of you like it’s not even there. It feels impossible to hear him in a place like this and not only that but to hear him sound like that—so weak and scared. “Oh my god! Jihoon?” 

Tugging at the handle of the cell door, you feel warm tears run down your cheeks when it won’t budge. Why was he locked inside of a cell? This was insane. He was the king of this palace for godsakes. “Jihoon! I can’t—the door won’t—it’s locked!” 

You were actually there? No, there was no way. Moving to his feet, Jihoon winces to the light through the bars when he sees your eyes as you rise to your toes, trying to see inside the cell. You were so beautiful. It was painful to see you. “Go away, Y/N.” 

Shaking your head, you tug at the door again in vain, not understanding Jihoon’s words. It didn’t make sense to you. “I—I don’t understand! I can’t go away. I won’t! I have to get someone to get you out of here. Who put you here?!” 

The laughter starts low and soft until finally Jihoon can’t hold it back. It was all ridiculous to him now. He hated himself so fucking much and he loved you just as much only to have a solid iron wall between the two of you now. That was the only way you were safe, and even then, Jihoon knew he could break it down if he tried hard enough—if the beast tried hard enough. “Who put you here?!” 

Taken aback when Jihoon mimics your words and the tone of your voice, you stare into his cell, trying to see him better. With limited light making it’s way into the cell, you could only see bits and pieces of him, but it was enough to tell he was naked and filthy. There was dirt and... was that blood? No, you were letting your fear get the better of you. 

“What’s wrong, Jihoon?” Pushing your fingers back through the bars, you sob out the words watching your husband move closer to the door, feeling a chill run down your spine seeing him closer. He didn’t look like himself at all. Jihoon was always well put together, but now his hair was matted with dirt and there was a look on his face you didn’t recognize—and his eyes. His eyes were so different. Why did those eyes look so familiar? Those golden eyes?

Sliding his fingers over yours, Jihoon’s eyes take in every bit of you that he can, knowing that he might never see you again. He thinks back to seeing you laying in bed, the blood seeping through the bandages as you whined in your sleep before waking up and asking him things he couldn’t answer. “Please leave me. Do this for me.”

You could hear the sorrow in Jihoon’s voice that it was breaking you in pieces. Why would he want to stay here? This wasn’t something he could ask of you. Shaking your head, you start to argue with him when Jihoon’s voice becomes more frantic, his fingers holding yours tightly behind the door. 

“Please! Please?! Y/N, can’t you do this one thing for me? Let me die down here where I can’t hurt you!” 

Trying to pull your hand away from Jihoon as you sob, you try to say his name when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and another around your wrist, easing you back from the cell door. 

“Let go of her, Sire... now.” 

Growling from inside the cell makes your blood run cold, but Jihoon’s fingers slide from yours and Wonwoo is able to bring your hand down from the door and to your stomach, where he holds it to you tightly. 

“It’s time to go back upstairs, Madame.” 

Why was Wonwoo always part of things like this? Trying to pull from his grasp, you whine his name, finding his grip too strong as he turns with you in his arms, walking back the way you had come. Behind you, you hear Jihoon’s growling soften into a whimper of your name as you lean your head back against Wonwoo’s chest, begging the man to let you go so you can go back for your husband. 

“I can’t. Please walk or I’ll have to carry you.” 

“I hate you. You did this, didn’t you? Why did you lock him in there?!” 

Sighing to the tone of your voice when you scream at him, Wonwoo bends his knees and pulls you into his arms much like he had the night he had saved you from the beast. Even though you push at his chest and struggle to get loose from him, you find yourself unable to grow wearier with each step up towards the light. 

“Because he asked me to, Madame.” 

19

Over the next few days, you find yourself getting lost in the palace as you attempt to find the staircase to the dungeon again. You had known where it was. You had seen Jihoon and felt his hand on yours, and yet by the time that you had made it upstairs with Wonwoo, it was as if exhaustion had clouded your mind, causing you to become confused and disoriented. 

You knew better than to ask Wonwoo for his help. He was keeping a closer eye on you, ever looming at every step you took and always directing you in the direction of your parlor or the library for a distraction. He was always reminding you that Jihoon was away on business. He was always lying to you, even though he knew that you knew the truth. 

It wasn’t until the fourth day that you managed to get Soonyoung’s facade to crack. You had watched him wander aimlessly around the palace only to look at you and start to say something before turning in the other direction. Something was on his mind and you knew what it was. He hated the idea of Jihoon in the dungeon as much as you did; he had to. That was his best friend. 

“Stop walking away from me.” 

Shaking his head as he continues walking away from you, Soonyoung furrows his brows, feeling his stomach twist with anxiety as you continue to follow with a limp in your step. “I’m not, madame... I’m just—I’m trying to get something done.” 

“Stop lying to me, Soonyoung! Stop making me chase you.” 

You were out of breath and Soonyoung felt horrible, but it wasn’t until he heard you wince in pain and heard the sound of you hitting the floor that he stopped in his tracks, running back towards you. Moving his eyes quickly over your face and down your body, Soonyoung feels the anxiety in him turning to panic as his hand hovers over your leg before he gives in and meets your eyes. “Are you hurt? Do I need to get the doctor? Is it your leg?” 

Dropping your act, you let out a slow, calming breath, grabbing Soonyoung’s hand and keeping him close to you. “I’m fine; I don’t want a doctor. I want my husband.” 

Opening his mouth in awe, Soonyoung is genuinely impressed by your willingness to go so far as to feign reinjuring yourself. You were a strong-willed woman and even more strong-willed since you became queen. Swallowing hard, Soonyoung shakes his head, looking down at the floor in front of you as you tell him what you want. He starts to tell you the same thing everyone else has when you grab his chin and make him meet your eyes. 

“I just—I want to take him food. Help me get back down there, please? I just want to see him for a few minutes. You can do this much for me.” 

Soonyoung knew this was a horrible idea as he walked in front of you, leading you down into the dungeon. Wonwoo would kill him and then blame it on someone else if this went poorly. Everyone had been warned not to let you come back down to the cells and yet here Soonyoung was doing just that and leading you right to Jihoon. “Ten minutes, Y/N... Anymore and Wonwoo will come looking for you.” 

You watch as Soonyoung looks inside Jihoon’s cell with his brows furrowed before he unlocks the cell door and steps back, letting you pull the door open. What you find is very different from what you had expected. Jihoon had seemed delusional and manic the last time you had seen him; now, while he seemed confused and afraid, he was lucid. 

Tears instantly fill your eyes at the sight of him as you move into the cell and put the plate of food on the bench. Moving to Jihoon, you throw your arms around his neck, feeling him carefully hold on to your waist. What you don’t see are Jihoon’s eyes locked on Soonyoung's, full of confusion and anger, before he buries his face against your neck, enjoying the moment knowing he has to let you go. 

“Why are you here, mon ange?” 

He really was different. This was your Jihoon now. Shaking your head, you sit beside him and carefully inspect him, lifting your hand to brush your fingers over his cheek, feeling Jihoon lean into your touch. “Miss you so much. Why—I—I brought you food.” Turning back to the plate, you put it on your lap and watch Jihoon’s smile turn sad as he nods gratefully. 

“I eat, darling. I don’t—I’m not starving.” He missed you terribly. This was making it worse. He had realized he loved you and now he was keeping himself from you. You were sitting right next to him, teasing him with the possibility of having his wife in his life, and Jihoon couldn’t take it. “You can’t be down here. Soonyoung, you need—” 

“Please, Jihoon. End this. Come upstairs and back to me? I’ll do anything. I’m sorry for whatever I did—” 

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N. I did. I—you don’t get it.” 

You didn’t and yet, as always, Jihoon wasn’t explaining it. “Then explain it to me. I need my husband. I cannot and will not live my life like this with you living in a cell.” 

You had every right to be angry with Jihoon. That was better than blindly trusting him. Looking towards the door, Jihoon sighs. Following his eyes, you see how the door is bent and scratched. That hadn’t been there before. It didn’t make any sense. How had Jihoon done that to a solid iron door? He seemed so normal and calm now compared to how he had been before. Did you even really want to know the answer to any of the questions you were asking yourself? 

“Or—just come home. You seem so much better.” 

“I do feel better, for now.” Jihoon wasn’t lying. He was a couple days out from shifting at this point and this was when he felt the best he could. He was on top of the world and could accomplish anything, but soon he would be right back where he was. You had visited him right before he shifted last time. You had put yourself in danger once again unnecessarily and that was what terrified Jihoon. You didn’t listen. “But you always—you didn’t stay inside that night, Y/N.” 

“I’ll stay inside! Forever!” Grabbing Jihoon’s hand, you blink through tears and pull his hand to your lips as you beg him to end this. “I swear it. Please?” 

Jihoon feels his chest tightening as you kiss his knuckles and as your tears hit his skin. He knows he should say no and stay where he is. No one, especially you, can be hurt or killed while he is locked away, but then you meet his eyes and plead with him once more and Jihoon’s resolve breaks. “Okay, mon ange.” 

20

There was ignorance and then there was blissful ignorance. For a week you had attempted to be blissfully ignorant, enjoying the presence of Jihoon back in the palace. Things had gone back to normal as much as they could, though you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that was growing inside of you. 

So much about your life in Aetherial Grove didn’t make sense. Jihoon didn’t make sense and how everyone acted around him didn’t make sense. They treated him as if he were made of glass, so fragile that one wrong word and he might break. You were the only person to not treat him this way and many times you found yourself being chastised for doing so and being reminded that the king has a fragile temperament. 

Even with all of the looming anxiety and building tension in the palace, you had kept your word to Jihoon and stayed inside each and every night for close to two weeks. Not once in those two weeks did he come to your bed or make an effort to be closer to you than he already was and you found yourself growing more and more weary as the days crept by, wondering if this was the life you were resigned to. 

It wasn’t until Jihoon had kissed you gently one evening and whispered his goodnight wishes to you earlier than any other night that week that you found yourself feeling defiant. You had promised not to go outside, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t wander the palace after dark. You could go to Jihoon’s room and speak to him about how you were feeling—surely this would be allowed. 

So that was where you found yourself, standing in front of Jihoon’s open door, finding it empty. He had said he was tired and that he was going to bed not ten minutes ago and yet there was no one to be found. Sighing under your breath, you tug your robe around you tighter and furrow your brows as you start to go back towards your room when you hear the sounds of the heavy front doors shutting. Why would anyone be going outside at this time of the night? You weren’t allowed to, so surely no one else was either. 

Following the sound, you let your hand hover over the door before finally pushing it open and shivering instantly to the cold night air, stepping out into the darkness feeling a pang of guilt in your stomach. You were breaking your promise, but something wasn’t right. There was someone at the gates and they were open. Moving towards them, you start to speak when you find yourself horrified and shocked as you watch Soonyoung easing the gate closed as Jihoon falls to the ground just outside of it, his skin ripping as something bursts through the muscle. What was happening? Why wasn’t Soonyoung helping him? 

With your hand on your stomach, you try to run with your leg beginning to burn and Jihoon’s name on your lips when you find yourself collapsing as Jihoon’s body starts to change in front of your eyes. Limbs break and between his screams, he growls like an animal. Fur takes the place of his skin and quickly he becomes something you had seen once before when it had attacked you. 

Turning back towards the palace, his head bursting with tension and anxiety, Soonyoung stops in his tracks just a few feet from the gate when he sees you sitting on your knees in front of him. Terror takes the place of his anxiety as Soonyoung runs towards you, pulling you to your feet as Jihoon snarls at the gate, pushing against it, seeing you both there. “Y/N! You can’t be out here! You promised!” 

With the wind biting at your face, tears drip off your cheeks and onto your gown as you stare at Jihoon’s golden eyes as he tries to push in the gate, finding it impossible. You push at Soonyoung’s chest as he tries to lift you, your eyes locked on Jihoon, until hands hold either side of your face, making you look at Soonyoung. “We have to go inside! The gate is strong but if he tries harder, it won’t hold.” 

“Is that….” You knew the answer to your question and yet it didn’t seem real as Soonyoung pulled you to your feet, feeling you collapse only a few feet from the palace doors. "Soonyoung, is that Jihoon?! Did he—Mingyu? Me?!” 

Shaking his head, Soonyoung wants to tell you no. He wants to make you get up and tell you that it’s all a bad dream but he can’t so instead he stays silent and gestures towards the door. 

“Tell me!” 

“Soonyoung, go inside. I’ll tell her.” 

Lifting your eyes toward the doors as light spreads out along the courtyard, you and Soonyoung stop everything to meet the eyes of Jihoon’s mother, seeing a solemn look on her face. You watch as Soonyoung starts to argue only for her to lift her hand and for her to offer it to you to take. 

“I’ll explain it all.”

21

The ground is hard under Jihoon and yet his body doesn’t feel nearly as cold as it usually does when he wakes up early in the mornings. He can hear the birds chirping and the trees shifting with the gentle wind. If it weren’t for the rocks under his body and the ache in his muscles, it would almost be peaceful—welcomed. 

Jihoon could remember seeing Soonyoung dragging you back to the palace the night before. He hadn’t attacked you; thank God for that, but you had lied to him. That would be something he would have to deal with once he got back to the palace, but for the time being, Jihoon lay quietly, feeling the sun heating up the blanket draped over his body. 

Then it dawns on him that there is a blanket covering him. Not once has he ever woken up to something like this. Soonyoung would often be waiting for him with clothes and sometimes even something warm to eat or drink, but he had never gotten close enough to cover him as he slept. Someone had. 

Lifting his head, Jihoon searches around him and that’s when he sees you sitting with your back against a tree, your eyes moving over a book resting on your lap. Why the fuck were you here? Panicked Jihoon takes a sharp breath, sitting up almost too quickly, feeling the blood rushing to his head. There was no reason for you to be out in the forest—no reason for you to be near him like this... unless you knew. 

Muttering your name under his breath, Jihoon notices the clothes folded next to him and whines, realizing how much you seemed to prepare for this moment. You seemed to have been waiting for a while. Even now hearing him panic behind you, the only sign that you knew he was awake was the way you turned your head further, offering him more privacy. 

Tugging the pants over his legs, Jihoon looks from you and back down to the ground as he stumbles, trying to hurry as he attempts to walk and dress at the same time. Fear was taking hold of him; it was coursing through his veins like never before and by the time that he was dressed, he found himself falling to his knees in front of you with tears in his eyes and shaking his head. 

“I—I’m so sorry, mon ange. I’m—” Swallowing hard as he meets your eyes, Jihoon loses the composure he had, the tears streaming down his cheeks once you close your book. “I’m a monster, Y/N. You don’t deserve this shit. You—fuck… I hurt yo—” 

Jihoon wants to explain it all and make you understand how sorry and dangerous he is but all his words jumble together. None of it seems to matter to you as you lift your hand, resting it against his cheek, your thumb brushing the tears from it as you shush him, shaking your head along with his words. 

Leaning into your touch, Jihoon lets out a shaky sob, cupping your hand his own and bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm when you don’t speak. He was terrified of what you might say, but you say nothing and yet he can feel it all as you simply sit with him in the moment. 

Hand in hand, you and Jihoon finally make your way back to the palace. You feel his thumb brush the back of your hand as he takes deep breaths to keep himself steadfast, knowing it’s not just your eyes on him anymore. Now you understand him. You understand it all. While it doesn’t make any of what had happened to you or any other woman that came to Aetherial Grove right, you still understand it, and it’s not Jihoon’s fault. 

He didn’t choose this curse. He wasn’t the person who was at fault and yet he was the one who bore it. You had sat watching him sleep that morning and decided that he wouldn’t bear it alone. 

“I’m just going to get cleaned up, darling, and then we can talk a bit more.” 

Standing at the door to Jihoon’s room, you smile at him as he lifts your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each one before he starts to turn to leave you. “Jihoon.” 

You hadn’t spoken much to Jihoon since he had woken up and yet that was okay. There was something in your comforting silence that made Jihoon feel at peace. Hearing his name on your lips now was almost a welcomed surprise that had him half concerned and intrigued as Jihoon brushed his fingers over your cheek, humming questioningly as your eyes searched his face. 

“Can I stay? Let me help you.” 

Innocent and his. Parting his lips to let out a soft breath, Jihoon tries to think of how to speak but you don’t let him dwell on it. You take his hand in yours and open the door to his room, leading him in on your own. 

There was always a bath ready for Jihoon by the time he was back from the forest; today wasn't the exception. Stripping off the clothes you had brought him one by one, Jihoon furrows his brows and tries to muffle a pained groan as he feels the tension in his back muscles knowing you aren’t too far away. 

From where you were, you could see Jihoon out of the corner of your eye as you kept your eyes down once again, attempting to give your husband his privacy until he was in the water. You had seen him naked the night he had come to your room and briefly before you covered him with the blanket, but still you felt your cheeks heat up at the thought. 

Hearing the water break and shift, you take in a deep breath, listening to Jihoon’s sighs of relief before finally lifting your eyes and moving towards him as he watches you. His eyes had been intense before but knowing what you know now, somehow they felt different. You weren’t necessarily scared of him and you didn’t pity him, but there was something about him that kept you on your toes. 

Jihoon could see the shy look on your face as you swallowed your breath sitting on the side of the tub, keeping your eyes averted from looking down into the water. He was your husband and still you were so sweet and innocent you were afraid to look. Perhaps that was his fault—no, he knew it was. 

Sighing softly as he watches you lather your hands with soap, Jihoon anticipates your touch only to feel a shiver run through his body when you finally do touch him. Your hands are gentle and soft, matching how delicate you really are as you work the soap into his skin along the top of his shoulders. “You don’t have to help me with this.” Even though Jihoon speaks, his words saying one thing, he closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of you, causing you to smile softly. 

“I want to. You’re my husband and I—” Rubbing your lips together, you swallow your words, tilting your head as Jihoon leans his head back, letting your hand slide over his chest, dragging the lather with it. You know what you want to say—how you feel about Jihoon, but it terrifies you almost as much as watching him shift or as much as feeling the arousal bubbling in your stomach as you help him bathe. You know you are being selfish. 

Furrowing his brows hearing you stop talking, your words unspoken, Jihoon opens his eyes and looks up at your pretty face, watching your eyes avoid his in place of looking at your hand as you work. “And?” 

Trying to smile and distract Jihoon from wanting to know more, you shake your head, reaching for the soap once again before shrugging. You sigh out a breath, trying to keep your attention on the task at hand, feeling yourself shaking slightly as your fingers work close to the waterline, feeling Jihoon’s muscles tense under your touch. 

“Fuck—” Biting his lips, Jihoon sucks in a breath, knowing you aren’t trying to seduce him even as you spread the lather over his stomach, your fingers dipping below the water. “Baby—” Leaning his head back, Jihoon reaches for your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours carefully, keeping it in place as he feels his cock twitching under the water, getting harder from just your innocent touch. 

It’s only when Jihoon stops you and you watch him take in deep breaths to try to calm himself that you realize your error and your eyes shift to the bathwater. “I’m sorry. Do—I can fix it.” 

Scoffing under his breath, Jihoon licks his lips and shakes his head, wondering to himself if you’d even know how to fix it. Would his sweet angelic wife know what to do with his cock all on her own? God, it was horrible for him to want to know, especially after everything that you had been through because of him. “It’s okay, mon ange. It’ll go away in a bit.” 

Feeling Jihoon’s fingers pat yours over his stomach, you pout to yourself as he keeps his eyes closed. You know deep down that he is trying to be kind and keep your innocence, but you find yourself offended by it and feel like a challenge is placed in front of you. Humming under your breath, you work your hand free from Jihoon’s feeling his stomach suck in under your touch as he mutters your name when your touch timidly goes lower. Perhaps you didn’t have all the practice, but you weren’t going to be put in your room and told to lock the door now that you knew what you knew. You were going to know everything. 

“Ah—wait!” Hissing out a breath, Jihoon’s eyes open widely to look between your face and down to the water as you wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke him once, holding him tightly. Holding the tub with one hand, he puts his other around your hand, loosening your grip slightly as you meet his eyes before guiding you. “Shit—like that, okay?” 

Adjusting with Jihoon’s help, you nod, your lip caught between your teeth as you feel his cock throb in your hand as you run your hand over it slowly. You can't help but be intrigued by the feeling and enjoying the weight of it in your hand as you feel the arousal pooling between your legs, causing you to whimper out a yes in response to Jihoon’s directions. 

“Feels good, darling. You are so beautiful. I—shit… You are too pretty to touch me, you know that?” Furrowing his brows, Jihoon groans your name like a prayer, helping you speed up your hand as he lifts his hips, chasing the feeling of his high. 

This felt completely different from when Jihoon had come to your room. It was more than the fact that it was you touching him; it was that you knew him better. You trusted him more. You loved his man and you wanted to make him feel good. Watching his mouth part in a groan, you furrow your brows and hold back a soft moan of your own when Jihoon falls over the edge. 

Tightening his grip around yours, Jihoon whines, letting you overstimulate him for a few seconds before he moves both your hand and his from his cock, letting it rest against his thigh. It had been so long since he had experienced something like that with someone else, but the fact that it was you—Jihoon’s mind was racing and his cock wasn’t fully softening. He had heard your pretty moans as you stroked him through his climax and now he couldn’t help but let himself wonder how wet you might be. 

The silence is almost deafening for a few seconds until Jihoon meets your eyes as he presses his thumb gently into your palm, drawing a small circle, causing your thighs to clench. You knew that you wanted him, but you were scared to ask. Luckily, your eyes said enough and Jihoon didn’t want to keep you waiting. 

Water soaks through your dress as Jihoon’s body presses against yours with your back against his bed. You whine to the feeling of his lips moving along your neck as his fingers impatiently work to undo ties and buttons before you hear and feel the fabric tear at your shoulder. “Jihoon—” 

“‘M sorry… Fuck, I’m sorry. I’ll get you more. I’ll buy you a thousand dresses and all the things you want, but I have to get you out of this fucking dress right now.” 

You could hear the desperation in Jihoon’s voice as he rutted his hips against your leg over the skirt of your dress, his fingers tearing at ruined sleeves so that his lips had more access to your skin. Leaning up on your elbows, you whine Jihoon’s name, feeling his tongue lap at your skin even as his fingers tug your dress carefully down to your waist, leaving your chest exposed to him. 

“You sound so pretty, baby.” He had been afraid to let you speak before when he was in your bed. The beast was listening too closely and he was not only a fool but a coward. Now as he relished in the sounds of your whimpers and moans, Jihoon willed the beast back, determined to enjoy you and every single sound you made for him in his bed. “God, I love you so fucking much.” 

Jihoon hadn’t meant to confess to you like that. His head was swimming with adoration for you along with lust as he worshipped your body, leaving kisses along your chest. You were his everything, all that would ever matter. The moment the words leave his mouth, Jihoon hears you suck in a breath and your body trembles under him, drawing his eyes upward.  

Those had been the words that you had wanted to say to Jihoon earlier—that you loved him. You were scared to say them. You were afraid that he would never love you and that you’d never been good enough for him and yet he said them to you first. Closing your eyes tightly, you feel the tears rising in your eyes as you try to keep them back but it’s impossible as you shake with a soft sob overwhelmed by sensations and emotions. 

Moving up the bed, Jihoon shakes his head, cupping your cheek in his palm as he looks down at you concerned as tears run from the corner of your eyes. He worries at first that you are hurt or that he’s upset you, but then he sees your smile and it almost breaks him. “Baby—”

“I love you, Jihoon.” 

God, he loved those words on your lips. They scared the shit out of him, but they were like hearing a true angel speak. Jihoon never deemed himself worthy of love. He didn’t think that he was worthy of his parents’ love or that of his friends, but when it came to you, he thought he’d never in his entire life earn those words. Something about those three little words changed Jihoon, but for now he simply kissed your smile and then each of your cheeks wiping the tears from your face. “You’re my heart, Y/N. I swear I won’t make you regret those words.”

Sighing happily, you run your fingers through Jihoon’s damp hair as his lips begin to once again move along your jaw and down your neck. You felt in your heart that he wasn’t lying to you. For the first time, it truly felt like you had your husband in your arms and he was taking his time and making you his. 

Carefully working the rest of your dress from your body, Jihoon winces, seeing how badly he really ruined the dress before he drops it into the floor as you laugh under your breath at his reaction. “I’m serious, a thousand, ten thousand more dresses just like it.” 

You want to say something—a smart comeback about how he should get you dresses for the damage done to that one, but any care you have for that dress leaves your head as you watch Jihoon’s fingers run along your thigh, urging you to spread your legs. You find yourself suddenly nervous once again as Jihoon meets your eyes and takes a deep breath when he moves them between your legs, seeing just how wet you are. 

“I—I don’t think I properly apologized for how things happened last time. That isn’t how anyone should treat you, but especially not your husband.” Watching you furrow your brows and start to shake your head, Jihoon lifts his free hand to stop you as he massages your inner thigh with his other hand. “It’s not an excuse, and I will never use it as one—I simply want to explain so that we are cautious in the future. When I am close t–to shifting like I was that evening, I am—” 

You watch Jihoon struggle with his words, having to take in deep breaths. You wonder if he’s ever explained something like this to someone else before realizing he hasn’t, that he’s never let himself get so close to someone. Moving to sit up, you slide closer to Jihoon, letting him rest between your legs as you run your fingers over his face, feeling him lean into your touch. “I’m listening and I’m not going anywhere, Jihoon. I love you.” 

He didn’t deserve you. God, how did you exist? Smiling, Jihoon turns towards your palm, kissing it gently before muttering that he loves you too and letting out a breath before continuing. “The beast makes me angry—aggressive and stupid. It would be wise if we were more careful about things like this if I’m close to shifting. Does that make sense?” 

Meeting Jihoon’s eyes, you run your thumb over his cheekbone as you nod, almost trying to memorize the color of his dark brown eyes as you think back to the golden of the beast’s eyes. “Yes, but I trust you. I also don’t want you to ever lock yourself away again, Jihoon. We do this together, forever. Do you understand? Don’t ever keep this from me again.” 

The thought of that terrified Jihoon more than anything. He was so afraid that he might hurt you or worse. You were more important to him than anything else in his life and he had a feeling that the beast knew that. The beast enjoyed taking things from him—or at least that’s what it felt like. Swallowing hard, Jihoon reluctantly nods, agreeing before leaning to meet your lips in a tender kiss, feeling you smile against it. 

Humming softly into the kiss, Jihoon’s tongue sliding along yours, you let him ease you back on to the bed, feeling the pillow under your head. Legs tangle with one another as his hand slides along your side, along your hip, and down to your knee before Jihoon pulls it up to his hip so he can nudge his cock between your legs. 

“Ah…” Excitement and arousal wash over you. Leaning your head back, you open your eyes, meeting Jihoon’s, biting your lip, wondering when he is going to finally put himself into you, only for confusion to the place of your excitement as he eases back. “No… wait? Jihoon, I thought—” 

“We are, baby. You aren’t ready. You said I’m your first.” Speaking between kisses along your jaw and neck, Jihoon lowers his eyes between your legs as he takes a steading breath, preparing himself more than you before he brushes his fingers over your wet folds. “I’d rather die than hurt you again, mon ange. Keep your leg up for me and if anything hurts, tell me.” 

Holding tightly to his bicep, you whine Jihoon’s name when you feel his index finger slowly ease into you. The feeling is familiar but unlike last time, there is no pain. This time you find yourself clenching around Jihoon’s finger. “Mmm…” 

Smirking to himself, Jihoon nods to your reaction before carefully pushing his finger in deeper, feeling your hand tighten on his bicep as you moan. He pictures you in your bed making those noises and wonders if you’ve put your own small fingers inside yourself like this, knowing they’d never reach as deep as he can. “Good? How about this?” Curling his finger back towards his palm, Jihoon watches as you arch your back, your mouth falling open with a breath. “Beautiful.” 

You wanted more. This was what you had expected and what your cousins had told you that you might expect in the bedroom with a husband. You knew that some marriages weren’t blessed with sex lives to be envied; at this moment, you felt like yours was. There was no way that there could be anything better than this. There was no way there was anyone better than Jihoon. 

“I’m going to add another finger, darling.” 

Bracing yourself, brows furrowed, you nod only to moan Jihoon’s name, feeling yourself stretch around his index and middle fingers. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t touched yourself before. You had made yourself orgasm several times in your life, but never had you felt this good. Never had you felt yourself stretched around fingers like you were now and that only brought you back to what you knew would come next as you felt Jihoon’s cock brush against your thigh. It was much thicker than two of his fingers. How would you ever handle that? 

“You are doing so well. So pretty.” Using his thumb, Jihoon draws small circles on your clit, watching you lift your hips as you feel the pressure beginning to build in your stomach. He had watched women cum before; he had even seen you do it once before, but there was something special about this. He was seeing you with clear eyes and you were divine. “You can let go. Cum for me, baby.” 

Your nails dig into Jihoon’s skin and yet he doesn’t flinch or seem angry with you as deep red marks appear on his skin when you cum around his fingers. Gasping his name, you push your hips down over his fingers and ride out your orgasm, daring to meet his eyes before throwing your head back with a breathy moan. 

Kissing the corner of your lips, Jihoon eases his fingers from you, feeling you clenching around them as he does. Despite his cock twitching and leaking on to your leg, he doesn’t rush you this time; instead, Jihoon brushes his fingers over your head and whispers softly against your skin as you come down from your orgasm. “You’re perfect. Love you so much, Y/N... Take your time, baby. Shh… I’m not going anywhere. Have all the time in the world.”

Though you didn’t want to wait, you could feel your thighs shaking as you fought to catch your breath. Any fears you had that Jihoon would rush out the door, leaving you alone and wanting were distant, as you felt like you were drowning in him now. Every word and brush of his lips against your skin or lips had not only made you feel like you were able to take your time but also more confident. Finally, once you couldn’t stand the growing arousal in you taking back over, you whined Jihoon’s name, feeling his lips pull up into a smile against your cheek as his fingers brushed over your lower stomach. 

“Hm, what is it, baby? Why are you whining for me?” Jihoon knew that you were still his innocent flower, his perfect little angel of a wife and while every bone in his body was begging him to take you and ruin you for anyone else—he had to hear you ask for it. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jihoon meets your pretty eyes as he feels your leg run along the outside of his thigh, your wet pussy pressing against his thigh, causing a groan to bubble up in his throat that he just barely manages to keep silent as he waits for you to speak. “What do you want from your husband?” 

The confidence that you had managed to build was waning, but you could see the look in Jihoon’s eyes and you somehow knew that he was going to make you follow through with his words. Glancing downward, you let your bottom lip jut out slightly, causing Jihoon to laugh under his breath as he watches you until you do finally speak. “I want—Jihoon, please? Take me.” 

You were being so sweet and soft. Your cute bottom lip sticking out at your pouted, but then you said those words and all amusement left Jihoon just like the breath in his lungs. He wanted to take you. While he never wanted to possess you like the beast did, there was a sense of pride that you were his wife and in his bed. He was lucky enough to have this claim to you and he’d be a fool not to act on it. 

Groaning under his breath, Jihoon nods before nipping at your jaw and hearing your breath get caught in your throat. The sounds leaving your mouth spur him on and have his hands once again trace the curves of your body, learning very dip and valley as he settles himself back between your legs. “Fuck—you’re… God, you’re so—” Shaking his head, unable to think straight, Jihoon practically whines, feeling your soft folds against his cock as he holds himself steady. “Please tell me you love me again.” 

Feeling the head of his cock bump against your clit, you gasp out Jihoon’s name before he grips your ass with his free hand, pulling your hips closer to him and lining himself up with you, waiting for you to do as he asked. It wasn’t a command or difficult task; it was asking you to do something as simple as breathing. “I love you, Jihoon, so much.” 

Neither of you were really prepared for how you would feel when Jihoon’s cock began to ease into you for the first time. You had never felt such an intense stretch like it in your entire life, and Jihoon was barely hanging on by a thread as he felt you clench down around him like a vice every single inch for what seemed like hours. He wasn’t going to rush you, but as he tried to allow you the time to adjust and get used to the feeling of him inside of you, Jihoon felt like he was going to explode. 

“Babe—baby… You are so tight. You have to try to relax for me, okay? Shh…” Brushing his thumb along your cheek, Jihoon meets your eyes, watching you nod along with his words as you make your best attempt to relax, allowing him to finally breathe when his hips settle against yours. “Fuck, there you go. Such a good girl. You okay? You let me know when you’re ready.” 

“Okay, oh my god.” You had been right when you wondered how you would fit all of Jihoon inside of you. Even as he lay between your legs and you felt yourself tightening around him, you were having a hard time comprehending it. 

The pain at first had been overwhelming, but now you were beginning to feel restless even as Jihoon’s fingers caress your skin and draw small invisible shapes along your chest and breasts to distract you. None of it is enough to stop you from wanting more and instinct kicks in, causing you to lift your hips, letting you watch a look of pleasure cross over Jihoon’s face as his eyes close and his lips part with a groan as you use your body like you had your hand earlier. “Please?” 

Anything you wanted. Jihoon would give you the moon and the stars. He would climb to the top of the palace and stand on the roof to pluck them out of the sky and bring them down one by one for you if you asked him to. Doing this—making love to his wife—Jihoon was more than happy to do. 

Lacing his fingers with yours, Jihoon presses your hand to the bed with the first swallow thrust of his hips, watching your mouth fall open with a choked moan. There was no way he was going to last long, but he’d rather die than cum without feeling you let go around his cock. He had denied himself for so long—he had denied you—that this was more than about just fucking you; it was about the pleasure he was determined to give you and to make you remember that he was the only one who’d ever make you feel this way. 

“Ji–Jihoon…” Tears fall over the rims of your eyes as Jihoon’s hips meet yours harder, his head buried in the crook of your neck. You had dreamt of pleasure like this but never thought it would be real until this moment—until Lee Jihoon. Digging your nails into his lower back, you press your head back into the pillow, gasping out a moan and arching your back, feeling the familiar pressure building with each of Jihoon’s deep thrusts. “Kiss me? Please kiss me, Jihoon.” 

The moon and the stars. Tightening his fingers on yours, Jihoon kisses your neck and groans your name before walking his kisses up to your lips, claiming them once again when you ask for something. He could feel himself barreling over the edge, his climax teetering on a precarious edge, but still determined to feel you first, Jihoon shifts his body closer to you, listening to you whine loudly against his lips as he pushes your leg up towards your stomach so he can bury his cock into you hard. “Come on, mon ange. Give it to me...” 

Jihoon sounds desperate and breathless against your lips; his thrusts are sharp and irregular as he gets exactly what he wants when you fall apart for him. Gasping for a deep breath, you find it impossible when your orgasm rips through you, causing your thighs to shake around Jihoon’s body. Resting his forehead against yours, Jihoon groans your name, feeling himself unable to hold back cumming hard into your warm pussy as you milk him dry. 

Both of you are silent beside your breaths for a few moments. Your bodies are tangled and unmoving as cum begins to seep from you and to the bed under you, making you feel sticky. It is Jihoon that moves and speaks first when he kisses your cheek and then your lips, unwilling to separate from you even as his cock softens inside of you, allowing more of his cum to escape. “My beautiful wife.”

Laughing under your breath, you turn your face from Jihoon’s kisses, feeling your cheeks burning at his attention even as he turns you back towards him, capturing your lips for a longer kiss and letting you sigh into it. You find yourself happy and sad all at once, your bottom lip once again sticking out slightly, making Jihoon lean back to look down at you before finally slipping himself from you and moving to your side, pulling you into his arms. 

“Why are you sad? What did I do?” 

Quickly shaking your head, you turn on your side, pulling one leg over Jihoon's, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your skin. “Nothing, I’m not—it’s not sadness, Jihoon. It’s—I’m not sure what it is. Regret?” Seeing Jihoon furrowing his brows, you pat his chest and sit up slightly, trying to correct yourself. “No, no, wait. Not like that. Regret that we didn’t figure this out sooner. How much of our relationship we have already missed out on because of—something you can’t be a fault for.” 

Wrapping his fingers around yours, Jihoon brings them to his lips, kissing them and speaking against them slightly muffled even as he sighs into his words. “You’re the only person who has ever truly made me feel like perhaps the curse isn’t my fault. I’ve always felt I earned it—” 

“Jihoon—” 

“Let me finish, mon ange.” Kissing your fingertips again, Jihoon smiles against them. “I know I was born like this and that the curse was put on my parents. I logically know that. That has never mattered until I met you. Every other woman has—well, you know.” Sighing, Jihoon laughs almost in disbelief at his own words as he shakes his head, putting your hand on his chest over his heart. “You make me feel like perhaps I’m not even cursed at all. How could I be if I have you?” 

Jihoon’s words cause your chest to tighten and for tears to sit on the rims of your eyes as you feel his heart beat steadily in his chest. You can’t imagine a life without him—a cursed life or not. “You aren’t, my love. You are just Jihoon. You are just my husband.” 

For the first time in Jihoon’s life, he believes those words in his heart and the rumbling is silent as you kiss him, whispering that you love him against his lips. 

22

Four days of ignorant bliss. It had been a honeymoon phase. 

Jihoon had spent days and nights in your arms, but now he could feel the hair standing on the back of his neck even as you laid your head in his lap reading your book. He knows he should tell you that he is going to shift, but the shame overwhelms him. 

Promises had been made about this. He had told you that the two of you would deal with things together, but how could he do that when he looks at your now and sees the scars on your thigh? He can see the way his claws ripped through your perfect skin and left such angry marks? No—Jihoon has to keep you safe. 

Jihoon waits until you are asleep. His fingers tremble as he brushes your hair from your beautiful face before he lifts you and lays you back in bed and he listens to the angry rumble in the back of his head. The beast is angry with him. Why was it so angry? Why was the beast longing after you? That terrified Jihoon. He had to get away from you. 

Stumbling out of the room, Jihoon groans under his breath in pain, making his way towards the front of the palace to the doors when someone stands in his way at the doors. Lifting his golden eyes to Wonwoo, Jihoon sighs out a ragged breath and gestures to the door. “Open it and move, Wonwoo. I don’t want to hurt you or anyone else. I couldn’t live with myself. Please.” 

“No, sire.” 

Confused, Jihoon puts a hand to his stomach, feeling his muscles beginning to tear from the inside out. Letting out a pained groan, Jihoon takes a step forward, trying to get to the door himself, only to feel Wonwoo’s hand on his shoulder pushing him back with surprising strength. “Fucking move, Wonwoo! You know I don’t have—I don’t have time! Why are you doing this to me?!”  

“Why did you lie to her?” 

Falling towards Wonwoo, Jihoon coughs, tasting blood in his mouth from the muscles shifting internally. Though he is still confused, he pushes past the steward harder, managing to open the door and fall to the ground at the steps and Wonwoo’s feet as the man looks down at him. “Wha—what the fuck are you—” Lying? He hadn’t told you that he was going to shift. Had Wonwoo been spying on the two of you? Furious, Jihoon glares at Wonwoo before letting out a painful growl as his back arches, the bones snapping. 

“You lied to her, Jihoon. You had made so much progress—you were changing.” 

Scratching at the marble under his fingers, Jihoon spits the blood from his mouth and turns his head back up to Wonwoo. “What the fuck? Are you spying on us?” 

“You’re smarter than that, Jihoon. Think—” 

“Jihoon!” You had woken up to the sounds of pained yowling and only one thing had made sense. With tears in your eyes, you run towards the door,, seeing Jihoon lying across the steps in the middle of shifting, fear evident in his eyes as he looks around, shocked and confused. 

“No—Wonwoo, send her—” Looking for Wonwoo, Jihoon is stunned to not see him standing over him anymore; he only sees you as you rush forward, falling to your knees in front of him This was the worst thing that could happen. He was dangerous during his shift and the beast would kill you; he couldn’t trust himself and yet you were looking at him like you always did. You weren’t afraid of him; why weren’t you afraid? “Y/N, please go away! Baby, please!” 

Shaking your head, you sob Jihoon’s name, moving closer even as his body breaks and reforms in front of you. You knew that you should be afraid, but you couldn’t. You had promised to take care of him and you weren’t going to go back on it. “No! I love you. I won’t leave. I’m here, Jihoon. I trust you!” 

Jihoon cries out in pain, his fingers breaking one by one before claws begin to take their place. He meets your eyes, able to shake his head before everything goes to black and nothing is left but the beast. Blowing out a deep breath into a growl, Jihoon opens his eyes and scratches at the floor under him, feeling the marble cracking until he meets your eyes. You should be terrified. You should be screaming, but you aren’t. 

“I’m here. I’m—Jihoon, I’m not afraid of you and I’m not leaving. I love you.” 

The words seem foreign and impossible, but even as something fights him, telling him that you are lying to him, Jihoon keeps his eyes on you, listening to you tell him that you love him over and over again as you lift your hand, putting it against his face. He could so easily kill you. Tear you limb from limb, but he can’t and he won’t. Falling down in front of you, Jihoon lets out a loud breath, resting his large head in your lap, feeling your shaky hands run over the thick fur.  

At first, Jihoon falling into your lap scares you. You worry for a moment that he might get up and capture you in his large jaws, but after a few moments, you begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep as you run your fingers over his head, listening to him breathe steadily. Tears drip from your cheeks and down on to the top of Jihoon’s head, soaking into the fur before you manage to lift your free hand, wiping them away, feeling relief wash over you. 

“You lulled man and beast, madame.” 

Furrowing your brows to hear a voice so close and having not heard any footsteps, you look up surprised to see Wonwoo standing against the doorframe with a slight smirk on his lips. You were used to seeing him in the same suit every day. He was a man of routine and he rarely surprised you, but tonight he looked completely different. He looked almost ethereal in his long black cape and his eyes full of mirth. 

“Wh—I? What? What are you doing out here?” 

Undoing his cape, Wonwoo grins at you as you feel the weight in your lap lessen, drawing your eyes down to Jihoon and causing your mouth to fall open in shock. Where the beast had been just moments before now lay your husband, his eyes fluttering as if he were simply dreaming, his body shivering from the cold. 

“I’ve grown weary, madame. Here, allow me.” Leaning to put the cape over Jihoon like a blanket, Wonwoo meets your eyes and you notice the subtle golden color to them before he stands back to his normal height to look up at the night sky. “You’ve done so much in your short time in Aetherial Grove.” 

Still confused, you watch Wonwoo closely while trying to keep Jihoon covered, feeling his fingers holding your dressing gown tightly at your thigh as he dreams. “What do you mean? Who—What—” 

Smiling to himself at your half-asked questions, Wonwoo glances towards you and nods. “Who and what indeed. A smart queen for an unselfish king. Quite the pairing.” You watch as Wonwoo lifts his hands and turns towards you and Jihoon, a playful look on his face. “When our dear king does wake, tell him that I am grateful for his generosity and that he allowed me to stay for as long as I wanted.” 

As if realizing something, you open your mouth, seeing Wonwoo’s eyes almost sparkle at your recognition. “You—” 

Bowing at his waist, Wonwoo meets your eyes and sighs. “Farewell, madame. Blessings on the king and his queen for many years to come.” Turning to walk away, you hear him laugh under his breath before he whispers just loud enough for you to hear. “Perhaps I’ll visit again one day.” 

Stunned and uncertain what to say or do, you watch Wonwoo as he moves towards the golden gates. You wait for him to push them open only to watch as he seems to vanish just before reaching them, just a shimmer of gold dissipating into the air where he once was. 

In your lap, Jihoon groans under his breath, shifting under the cloak, finally managing to open his eyes, looking up at you. The confusion is clear on his face, but as he blinks, looking around as if expecting something to happen, you can almost see something becoming clear to him. 

“How?” 

Lifting your hand to your lips and realizing that the curse is truly broken, you can’t stop the sob before it leaves you. Jihoon, still confused, looks at the cloak around him before moving closer to you, trying to keep you warmer as you try to speak between sobs, trying to explain what had happened even though you know it doesn’t make sense.  

Though Jihoon doesn’t completely understand, he pushes the tears from your cheeks and nods along, letting it sink in. Wonwoo had been in his life for as long as he could remember. His father had never explained where the steward had come from, and Jihoon had never asked. He remembered his father and Wonwoo having a difficult relationship as well as a close friendship, but now as you tried to explain who he really was, it all began to sink in. 

His father had been a selfish king and in his own way, so had Jihoon. He had thought by keeping everything to himself that he was protecting everyone around him—he had been protecting you, when in fact he had been hurting you more. It took letting someone in and letting them stay to break the curse. Just like letting Wonwoo stay until he was ready to go. 

In the end, it all led Jihoon to you and now he would never let you go. 

His wife. His queen. His heart. 

READ THE BONUS ON PATREON

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[latanyalove]

Sick Day

Summary: You're sick but you don't want to disturb your busy captain and the crew.

Song: Coming Down by The Weeknd

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

The salt spray stung your face as you clung to the railing of the submarine, Polar Tang. The familiar rocking of the vessel usually soothed you, but today, it churned your stomach with a vengeance. Each swell sent a wave of nausea crashing over you, and the lump in your throat threatened to betray the secret you’d been desperately trying to keep.

“Another beautiful day at sea, eh, Y/N?” Shachi called out, his ever-present grin plastered on his face. He approached, a length of rope slung over his shoulder, and threw an arm around your shoulders.

His touch, normally comforting, felt like a brand on your feverish skin.

“Gorgeous,” you managed, forcing a smile and leaning away slightly. “Just taking in the fresh air.”

Shachi, bless his oblivious heart, seemed to buy it. “That’s the spirit! Captain’s in the library, buried in some ancient medical text again. Probably trying to find a cure for boredom.” He chuckled. “Don’t think he’s slept in days. You should see the bags under his eyes.”

Your heart clenched. That was precisely the reason you were out here, battling the waves and the growing weakness in your limbs. Trafalgar Law, your…everything, was already overworked.

He dedicated his life to the well-being of his crew, pushing himself relentlessly. The last thing he needed was you adding to his burden with a simple cold.

“Maybe I will,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “Catch up on some reading myself.” You detached yourself from Shachi’s grip and hurried below deck, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your hands.

The air inside the submarine was thick and humid, doing little to alleviate the chill that had settled deep in your bones. You bypassed the library – Law’s sanctuary – and stumbled toward your shared cabin.

Collapsing onto the bunk, you pulled the threadbare blanket over yourself, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head and the scratchiness in your throat.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

Bepo’s anxious voice cut through the fog in your brain. You peeked out from under the blanket to see the massive polar bear crouched in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Fine, Bepo, fine,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket higher. “Just a little tired.”

Bepo wasn’t stupid. He knew you better than anyone, barring Law himself. He padded closer, his large paws silent on the metal floor.

“Your face is flushed,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “And you’re shivering. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just a little seasick,” you insisted, turning your face to the wall. “It’ll pass.”

Bepo hesitated, his ears twitching. “Maybe…maybe I should tell Captain.”

Panic flared in your chest. “No! Bepo, please don’t. He’s so busy. It’s nothing, I promise. Just let me rest.”

You knew you were being unreasonable, but desperation lent your voice a sharp edge. Bepo, always sensitive to your feelings, retreated slightly.

“Okay, Y/N,” he said softly. “But…but if you need anything, anything, you promise you’ll tell me?”

“I promise,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Days blurred into a miserable cycle of stolen naps, forced smiles, and growing weakness. You avoided Law as much as possible, knowing he’d see through your charade in an instant.

You choked down your meals, forcing yourself to socialize with the crew, all the while battling a fever that threatened to consume you.

The hardest part was keeping your distance from Law. You craved his touch, his presence, his unwavering gaze. He was your anchor, your safe harbor in a turbulent world.

But you couldn't risk him seeing you like this, a pathetic, sniffling mess. You’d rather suffer in silence than burden him with your trivial illness.

One evening, as you were attempting to sneak a cup of herbal tea – Penguin’s well-intentioned remedy, despite your protests – Law’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You froze, your back to him. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a different kind of shiver than the one that racked your body with fever.

“Captain,” you said, turning around slowly. You tried to appear nonchalant, leaning against the counter as if you weren’t desperately trying to keep from collapsing.

He stood in the doorway to the galley, his dark eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He was even more tired than Shachi had described, the lines around his mouth etched deeper, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, his voice flat.

You forced a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Captain. I’ve just been…busy.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Busy doing what, exactly? Trying to master the art of disappearing?”

You swallowed, your throat burning. “I…I just wanted to give you space. You’ve been working so hard.”

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “And you think hiding from me is helping?” He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead. You flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re burning up,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “How long have you been sick?”

The fight drained out of you. There was no point in denying it any longer. He knew. He always knew.

“A few days,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

His grip on your forehead tightened slightly. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. “I didn’t want to bother you. You have so much to worry about.”

He sighed, a sound of weary exasperation. “Y/N…" He took your hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. "You are never a bother. Ever. Do you understand?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “But…”

“No buts,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Come with me.”

He led you back to your cabin, carefully helping you onto the bunk. He didn’t say anything as he peeled off your clammy clothes and wrapped you in a fresh blanket. He worked with a practiced efficiency, his movements precise and gentle.

He summoned Bepo, who scurried off to fetch a basin of cool water and some clean cloths. Law sat beside you, dipping the cloth in the water and gently dabbing your forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

Your voice was hoarse. “I was scared.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something else, something that made your heart flutter despite the throbbing in your head.

“Scared of what?”

“That you’d be angry,” you whispered. “That I’d be a burden.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “You could never be a burden, Y/N. And I could never be angry at you for being sick.”

He continued to bathe your forehead in silence, his touch soothing and comforting. You closed your eyes, letting the cool water and his presence wash over you.

“From now on,” he said softly, after a long silence, “no more secrets. Not from me. Understand?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

“I understand,” you whispered.

The next few days were a blur of fever dreams and Law’s unwavering care. He made you herbal teas, insisted on you resting, and even managed to coax a few bites of bland food past your protesting stomach.

The crew tiptoed around the cabin, whispering their well wishes and leaving small gifts – a rare orange, a hand-knitted scarf, a crudely drawn get-well card from Bepo.

Slowly, the fever began to break. The throbbing in your head subsided, and the nausea faded. You started to feel like yourself again, a little weak perhaps, but alive.

One evening, as you sat propped up in bed, reading a worn paperback, Law entered the cabin. He carried a tray with a steaming mug and a plate of crackers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Much better, thank you," you replied, offering a tentative smile. "I'm almost back to normal."

He placed the tray on the small table beside your bed. "Good. I was starting to miss your sharp wit and irritating questions."

You chuckled, a genuine sound this time. "Irritating questions? You're just jealous of my superior intellect."

He smirked, a rare and precious sight. "Of course. That must be it." He leaned back against the wall, watching you as you sipped your tea. The silence that followed was comfortable, a familiar rhythm between you.

"Law," you began hesitantly, "I wanted to thank you. For everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "There's no need. I just did what anyone would have done."

You shook your head. "No, you went above and beyond. You could have left it to the others, but you didn't. You took care of me. And I... I really appreciate it."

He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer. "Y/N," he said, his voice low and serious, "you're important to me."

Your heart leaped in your chest. "I –"

He cut you off, continuing before you could overthink and ruin the moment. "You're smart, resourceful, and you have this infuriating way of always knowing exactly what to say to piss me off, but also... to make me laugh. You bring a unique perspective to the crew. You challenge me."

He paused, his eyes searching yours. "And," he swallowed hard, "you're… kind of… essential to me."

You stared at him, speechless. Essential? Was he… could he possibly…

He seemed to realize what he had said, the implications of his words hitting him like a tidal wave. His cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"I… I didn’t mean to say that," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"You didn't?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He looked back at you, his gaze intense. "Well, I mean… I did. But… I didn't mean to say it like that. It just sort of… came out." He was a mess, a far cry from the stoic, collected captain you knew him to be.

You couldn't help but laugh, a nervous, shaky sound. "So, you're saying you didn't intend to accidentally confess your… whatever this is, to me, while I'm still recovering from a fever?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is a disaster."

You reached out and took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. "Hey," you said softly, "it's okay. It's more than okay."

He looked up, his eyes filled with doubt and a glimmer of hope. "It is?"

You squeezed his hand. "Yes, Law. It is. Because… I feel the same way."

His eyes widened. "You… you do?"

You nodded, your heart soaring. "I do. I have for a long time."

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features. It was the most genuine, unguarded smile you had ever seen. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

"Then maybe," he whispered, "this accidental confession wasn't such a disaster after all."

He leaned in closer, and you closed your eyes, anticipation flooding your senses. His lips brushed against yours, a tentative, feather-light touch. It was a promise, a beginning.

The door to the cabin slid open with a bang, and Penguin's head popped in. "Captain! We've spotted–" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the scene. "Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Law pulled away, his cheeks flushing again. "Yes, Penguin. You are."

Penguin backed out of the cabin, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and amusement. "Right. Carry on, then. I'll just… tell the others to steer clear." He disappeared, leaving you and Law alone once more.

You both burst out laughing, the tension finally dissipating. The world outside your tiny cabin seemed to fade away, leaving only you and Law, the quiet hum of the Polar Tang, and the undeniable spark of something new, something real, igniting between you.

The fever might have been a curse, but it had inadvertently led to a cure for a different kind of ailment, one you had both been suffering from in silence for far too long.

And maybe, just maybe, accidental confessions were the best kind. . . .

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Country Honey

 ♡ featuring: ranchhand!toji x richgirl!reader

 ♡ synopsis: a spoiled, wealthy college senior is forced to spend her summer at her father’s rural farm as punishment for her reckless behavior and slipping academic performance. unbeknownst to her, a bigger storm awaits just around the corner.

 ♡ wc: 16.5k+ (AHHHHHH)

 ♡ cw/tw: afab!reader, enemies to lovers if you squint, hurt/comfort kinda sad toji, feral toji, spanking, overstimulation, edging, sadism/masochism, throat fucking, cock worship, m/f receiving, doggy style, degradation kink, brat taming, dumbification, reader is a spoiled brat a lot of the time

notes: oh god, where do i begin...i know ive been gone for so long. firstly i want to apologize, and secondly ill explain my absence in a second post. not proofread so i apologize, honestly i shouldnt have tried a long fic for my comeback bc it took way too long to finish, but either way i hope you all enjoy! art by moonlessoul on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

“Almost there.” 

The sleek luxury car your dad drives grumbles at a rocky pace over an evidently gravelly road. If you can even call it a road—rather the patchy fragments of flattened dirt eroded by heavy traffic from a forgotten time. It’s a path shrouded by southern live oak, canopying its leaves and spearing sharp rays of summer daylight through the sunroof.  

You’re feeling every second of this bumpy ride. The wheels hop over an unsteady rock and your knees jab into your sternum. You’re pressed into an unfortunate position, with your legs pinched to your chest and the bright pink suitcase you insisted on bringing sandwiching you to the leather seat. You struggle to wiggle to a decent side that spares your sweltering face from the sun, but the other seats are also occupied with your luggage. And the front seat. And the trunk. 

Maybe that’s why you were brought here in the first place. You’re well off to a sickening amount and you’ve made no efforts to conceal your wealth. Your dad sacrificed his golden years to foster an agricultural business in the rural south, and now you reap the rewards of his labor. You know it and spend it as such. You’ve collected a textbook of names throughout the years—spoiled, bratty, coddled, pompous—each insult savored more than the last. You embraced being a spoiled rich girl and all it had to offer. Top notch schools, waitlisted parties, designer bags, and just about any opportunity you could get your greedy hands on.  

High school left like the wind and before you knew it, the 4.0 extracurricular weapon you used to be devolved into a nightlife college senior, more invested in the extravagant yacht parties than your academic probation. It was a risky misstep, but you didn’t have the heart to care when your dad could easily pay your way to graduation. At this rate you’d be a couple years behind your peers. Your dad wasn’t having any of it. 

The festivities stopped. No unlimited debit card and especially no spending. This could possibly be your final senior summer, and instead of celebrating with friends you’re making up for your transgressions. The worst part is the rural retreat he’s currently driving you to with no sign of civilization for miles.  

You could die right now. 

“How much longer?” You drawl on the last syllable, flicking your phone on and off in hopes that a bar or two will magically appear in the top right. He glances at you through the rearview mirror, a tinge of southern, "Just a few more minutes.”  

You let you phone fall from your limp hand and lean your head against the open window. Nothing but ancient trees and the occasional berry bush. You’re not sure if you should be more upset by the consequences of your actions or the actual actions that roped you into this mess. Instead of ruminating on your mistakes, you allow your eyelids to droop in the oppressive warmth. 

“We’re here darling.” Your eyes shoot open. So soon, and surely not after the forest you’d been traversing moments ago. You’re able to scoot up more, the sound of stone-pathed roads rattling in your ears. You tuck your knees underneath you and lift yourself up now that the terrain was smoother, poking your torso out the window. A bane of light strikes you immediately, and you blink away its brilliance to reveal crystal blue skies. 

Your mouth shapes an ‘O’, and you push your designer glasses over your forehead. “...No way” you gawk, taken by the view your father cultivated. 

This is nothing like the previous tunnel, and certainly nothing like the skyscrapers you’ve grown accustomed to. It’s an endless expanse disrupted by stone and crowded with overgrown wheat, bobbing in the mild breeze. They travel up the winding hill, ducking under wooden fences to border the farmhouse. The two-story ivory home exudes simplicity, strung with hanging pothos that wrap around the spacious porch and decorative shuttered windows painted like strawberries. From your limited view you notice the large red wooden barn peeking out behind the house, and a dirt trail leading to productive areas; a small stable, cattle, and other farm animals coexist in a sector made for their comfort. Beside the home is the largest Magnolia tree you’ve ever seen, with branches extending over the pitched, fabled roof and overhanging eaves with sweeping petals. It’s purposefully overgrown and homely, a humble size incomparable to the mansion you were raised in. 

Your father pulls up to the oak gate with a tattered sign overhead: Welcome to Pleasantview Farms.  

The lack of security, never mind the lack of extravagance, is astonishing to you. It’s unexpected of your father—the man that required you have a designated butler all throughout secondary school. “You never told me about all this” you yell from outside the window, still gazing at distant rolling hills of dewy grass. “You never asked” he chuckles, and turns onto another hill leading up to the house. You look beneath you; patches of flowering weeds fighting their way past the pavement. 

He parks in an open plot half occupied by a wheelbarrow, packed to the brim with haybales. “We’re here.” He turns the car off and steps out to open your side. Your luggage slams onto the dirt before you do, and you yelp.  

“No, it’s gonna get dirty!” He laughs and brushes specs of soil off your precious bag. “And if it does, you’ll be alright pumpkin.” You groan and attempt to get out without sacrificing your hot pink slides, when your first foot gives into silt. You scream and stumble onto dry earth, leaving your phone behind to *splat* in the mud. You kick off the mud barely clinging to your shoes until you catch a glimpse of your glittery phone charm on the floor. It takes you a second to process the mud-covered device slowly descending, but when your brain synapses finally link, you expel an ear-shattering shriek. To which your dad stifles a smile at the dramatic performance. 

He picks it up and wipes the debris on his ivory shirt. “One more reason for you not to have it” he says and tucks it away in his pocket while you’re struck with a permanent look of horror. 

The front door swings open, and you turn to see a thin older woman. Slightly older than your father, her face is gentle and creased with living. Her hair fades from light gray to dark brown at the very tips, tied neatly into a bun with a coiled band. She removes her pale-yellow gloves and stuffs them into the back pocket of her bleached trousers, jogging up to you. “Good afternoon, Annie” he smiles, and she stretches a wide grin that nearly shuts her eyes. “Hello, sir. Is everything alright?”  

“Yup, just kids being kids” he snickers and plants both hands on either side of your shoulders. “This is my daughter.” 

“Good afternoon” you meek, devastated and contemplating the status of your phone. She audibly gasps and grabs your hands, and you jolt. “You’re even more beautiful in person. I’ve heard so much about you.” It’s like she’s studying your face with the way she gazes into your eyes, to which they fall onto your cheeks and hair. You’re not one to shy away from flattery, but the direct compliments spread embarrassment across your ears. 

“Keep her company while I get these from the car, will you? Maybe show her around.” She nods, and leads you on an impromptu tour through the house.  

“There isn’t much to see ‘round here, but I’ll try to make it interestin’ for ya” she jokes. The entryway is quaint, keeping nothing but rubber boots covered in dirt and farming tools used for today’s workload. “This where we keep what we need for today. S’just better to pick it up from the front.” You nod.  

Further in, the hallways are decorated with baby pictures of you at various photoshoots. On the left side, she shows you a pastel green kitchen embellished with colorful floral paintings above the handles. Annie talks with her hands, “This is my domain. Damn near painted the whole thing. Took a lot of convincin’, but I got it eventually.”  

“Do you live here?” you questioned. “We all do!”  

“All?” 

“Mhm”, she hums, “Me, Terrace, Lionel, and...” she trails off at the end. You’re surprised that they’re living where they work, and even more surprised that she’s all smiles while doing it. “Do you...like living here?” 

“Of course! Pays well, lots'a vacation time, and everything’s compensated.” You tilt your head slightly, “Where do you guys' sleep?” 

“We got our own place out back, all of us. Sweet deal, huh?” she says, patting your back. “And who was the other person that works here?” you ask. 

Annie waves off the idea, stating “You don’t have to worry ‘bout him, he’s not really the talkin’ type.” 

Perhaps it was her bluntness or her motherly cadence, but you quickly became comfortable with her presence dragging you around like a lost puppy. She showed you the living room that appeared to be vomited on by all things antique and vintage, and the bathroom tiled an ugly orange pattern. She led you outside, where a garden blossoming with peonies and hibiscus was trimmed carefully to adorn the pebbled path and fit around the barn. Far-out past the back gate you saw what you assumed was their living quarters, separated from miles of tillage. 

By the time she finished her grand tour, you made it upstairs together to regroup with your dad. The second floor was reserved for your bedrooms and attached bathrooms. Entering your room, there’s nothing special about it. It seems like your dad attempted to buy things similar to your style, but couldn’t quite figure it out. You weren’t expecting much of anything considering this was your first—and most likely last—time being here, but it’s truly mediocre. “Whaddaya think pumpkin?”  

“I love it” you choke out a lie and plop onto the red plaid bedding. Your luggage is lined up by the dresser, and you have quite the unpacking session awaiting you. Annie leans on the doorway. “I’ll let ya get settled in. We can do more in the morning.” Your dad leaves with her, and when you’re left alone stewing in the reality, you fall back onto the comforter. 

One day is entertaining, you’d even call it an enjoyable experience. But the entire summer? You spend the rest of the day emptying out suitcase after suitcase, and turn in under the heavy blankets starving off a midnight chill. 

You’re up before the crack of dawn, contemplating what you’ll wear as if that matters while you’re shoveling shit and carrying chicken feed. You throw on something impractical either way—a plaid button up tied to crop, tight denim shorts, and a brand new pair of shiny cowboy boots you just couldn’t resist buying when the trip was announced. You stomp your way to the back porch and are immediately hit with the bittersweet scent of humid pastures and last night’s rain within the tepid wind. It’s utterly quiet besides the distant echo of cattle and pigs, cicadas humming an airy tune. Your eyes latch onto the barn, slightly parted with a dim light going on the inside.  

You recall what Annie said to you during the tour when you asked what’s in the barn: “I suggest you leave it alone, nothin’ worth lookin’ at in there.” Her clear avoidance intrigued you, and the more she dodges actual answers the more curious you become. You tread carefully on the path so you don’t alert whoever or whatever’s inside. As you plant one weightless foot over the other, you stop.  

A deep, gritty voice; thick like the bark of an ancient redwood. He grunts then *chop*, followed by something solid rolling on a prickly surface. Another thick groan and another *chop*. You get closer to the barn and slide across it, practically dragging yourself against Annie’s wishes.  

*Chop* 

You clutch the side of the parted door. 

*Chop* 

You peak your head in. The two story barn houses an array of soils and tools used for farming on the bottom, and clumps of hay piled high at the top. 

The older man with a mop of inky hair hangs his head low, honed in on the objective beneath him. The sharp end of the axe steadies above his head, then cuts through the air as it lands deep within the stump. He goes for another swing, beads of sweat meandering between his pecs, down the carved muscle of his abdominal and disappearing below his chiseled v-line. He digs his thick calloused fingers into the crevice and splits it. It’s as if his physique was crafted by careful hands, weaving marble like silk only Roman gods could mimic. 

Your entirely distracted by the unexpected scene before you when the silence is cut by a clatter. His breaths are sharp and purposeful as he kicks it off the stand and trudges to the uncut pile of logs. You watch him with wandering eyes, taking mental notes of scars hiding underneath the fine hair spread across his torso. This isn’t the grumpy old man you imagined when Annie spoke so brazenly about him. 

He hasn’t glanced at you once, despite standing right in front of the post he’s chopping on. It’s slightly aggravating. You’ve never had to ask for anyone’s attention before. You bathed in wealth, just enough to make even the snobbiest trust-fund kid turn his head. He must be blind. So, you wait until he comes to his senses, tapping your foot with your arms crossed over your chest.   

And you do that...for a while. More than a few minutes pass, and you’re still standing here. You stir in the silence and methodical chopping, feeling flustered at how needy you look waiting for a man's response. A piece of wood—more important than you? Impossible. In a last-ditch attempt, you clear your throat rather dramatically. Nothing. A log rolls by your foot and the older man walks up to you only to kneel down and grab the wood before going back to his task. Heat creeps onto your cheeks. Are you fucking kidding me?  

“Are you hard of hearing, mister?” you finally ask, batting your eyelashes at him. It’s a deep contrast to the irritation boiling in your stomach, so much so you have to choke back the vulgar words bubbling at the surface.  He glimpses you with frosted olive eyes and swings the axe over his head. In a mild country accent he replies, “No.”  

“...Oh.” You’re struck with palpable quiet once again. You’re fixed to the floor, struggling with something to say that doesn’t start with ‘fuck you’. As you’re about to open your mouth, he speaks.  

“Heard ya the first time.  If ya wanna talk, use your words.” You stare in utter disbelief. Was it audacity or straight stupidity? You can’t imagine anyone disrespecting their employer’s child, let alone commanding them.   

“Excuse me?” He tosses the last log in the pile.  

“Hm? Should I do it in a way you’ll understand?” he brings his fist to his lips, clearing his throat as you did.  There’s a glint through that frost, the twinkle of an obvious shit-stirrer. You’re pissed no doubt, but the corner of your lip twitches at a challenge. 

The most important tool to a wealthy family is humility. You can’t be too self-centered or prideful to strangers, dropping hints of sugary kindness as to not sour your perception. Perception is truly everything. Even so, the flowered words you’ve been taught to wield with grace wilt at the sight of him. 

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?” You scoff, plopping down on the stump. He wipes his dirt-dusted hands on the back of his overalls, straps dangling at his thighs. “Not sure what ya mean.” 

“From what I’m getting, you’re a grumpy asshole. That description sound correct?” 

“‘M only an ass when trust-fund kids call me like I'm a dog.” 

“You know, the way Annie talks about you I thought you’d be some geriatric old man on his death bed! Turns out you’ve still got a couple more months in you—congrats!” 

He laughs, “‘Preciate it. If I’m correct you must be papa’s spoiled little brat from the big city?” 

“Mhm. Don’t worry, this was your first offense so I’ll let it slide. Remember to get on your knees when you apologize.” He pretends to ponder the idea, “Think I’ll pass. You can pick up one ‘o them bags up though and bring ‘er up to the field.” 

You pause for a second, blinking. Instantly you double over with snorting laughter, the kind that tints your face and gathers tears at your lashes. You’re even clutching your stomach from how funny it is. When you come up from your fit, he’s there with his arms crossed under his chest. That’s when you realize he wasn’t joking by any means. You gape in disbelief, a chuckle still caught in your throat. 

“Wait…you’re serious?” He walks over to one of the sacks and tosses it at your feet. “Well, get to work. I’ll show ya where to put it.” You purse your lips when a giggle slips, “Do you really think that’s gonna happen? Must be the age catching up with your brain.” 

“I think it is gonna happen cause yer in my area. If you wanna be here, you’re gonna work. Nothin’s free ‘round these parts.” You hop off the stump and stand in front of him. Unfortunately, your attempt to size him up fails as your crane your neck to meet his gaze. “You can’t make me do anything. In fact, this is my property, and you’re here to do your job. So go do it” you terse. 

“Nah, that’s not how this works. You’re on the farm now, not some bullshit country club you go to on weekends. Take yer ass to that bag and pick it up.” 

You feign a pout, “Isn’t a pretty girl in your presence enough hard work already?” 

“Not when she has so much mouth. The pretty ones know how to shut up.” 

“I wouldn’t have so much mouth if you didn’t back talk.” He gets in close, only inches away from your face. 

“Either go pick flowers, whatever girly shit you do, or do what I tell you to do.” 

“I’ll tell my dad you’re forcing me into manual labor.” 

“Aww, go ahead” he mocks with a smirk. He walks towards the door, wrapped in golden sunlight. Curious, you try tugging on the sack and nearly face-plant over the weight of it. There’s no way he expects you to carry it on your own. He turns back around, laced with mirth. 

“By the way, name’s Toji. Welcome home, sweetheart.” 

“Go do it yourself since you’re so good at it! You egotistical, selfish, brutish-” 

“Pompous ass instigatin’ little-” 

“-Callous disrespectful pig!” 

“-Brat.”  

The words topple over themselves and you both can’t get a full sentence in as insults are hurled like physical objects. The few days you’ve spent on the farm so far have been nothing short of hell, specifically around Toji. You’ve never worked this hard in your life; then again, that’s not saying much. He'd disregard your lack of general strength and enthusiasm. Sometimes he’d hold the underside of the bag to take some of the weight off, to which you often added “why don’t you just grab the whole damn thing?” A smirk and curt response were simply “Nope.” 

Most days you merely dragged a few bags to the pick-up truck and spent the rest of the day lounging around the garden. You’d stumble into the kitchen, a bead of sweat barely manifesting on your brow, and complain to Annie about Toji’s evil plan to make you contribute. 

Today is no different and you laze on the chair with your back bent over it, groaning in theatrical agony. Annie sits across from you funneling blueberry muffin batter into a silver muffin tin. “Yea, yea, I hear ya” she jokes.  

“Annie, do something” you drawl. She throws her hands up, “Can’t. Thats on you, now.” You scrape the side of the bowl and pop a blueberry-dipped finger in your mouth.  

“Don’t eat raw egg, hun” she says, turning her back to put the tray in the oven. You unconsciously take another swipe, then the door swings open. Heavy cowboy boots trail to the kitchen, and you glance at the doorway. Toji leans on it with his hands in his pockets, white tank sprinkled with grass blades.  

“Shit” you mumble.  

“’M lookin for ya and here you are stuffing your face.” 

“The girl neva worked a day in her life an’ you want her to be your assistant” Annie jests.  

“’S about time, ain’t it? We’re not done yet. C’mon.” You let out another reluctant groan and follow behind him. “This is bullshit, nobody does this on a normal day.” 

“Yea, nobody you know.” 

In front of the wheelbarrow bags upon bags are filled to the brim with juicy red apples and the truck is just a few feet away. Your eyebrow twitches imagining the weight in your arms. “You can go fuck yourself if you think-” before you can finish your sentence, a bag is dropped into your arms that briefly sends you to the ground. Toji picks up two and flings them over his back. “What? Too weak?” He walks to the truck, ignoring the glare burning holes in the back of his head. Too weak, my ass. You definitely couldn’t beat him in a fight, but you damn sure wouldn’t let him talk down on you after proving your competence. You pull it up and haul it backwards, not without a few mild choice words. 

“Jerk.” 

The pungent odor of slurry and trough feed overcome any habitable air near the pig farm. The clothespin you have clamped around your nose barely blocks the smell. It’s the middle of the day, rays rippling heat off the stench and sending it for miles. Your cowboy boots struggle to sit upright on the uneven terrain blanketed with mud.  

You don’t dare to open your mouth and complain in fear of it invading your sinuses. It’s your fault for nagging endlessly about the “back-breaking” work Toji forced you to do. your criticisms were met with some rendition of “suck it up”, and arguing only went in circles. Consistent arguing—from the moment you woke up to the last minutes of your shift, where you mouthed off one too many times for his liking. When you threatened to find another shift with someone else, he laughed in your face, a “good luck” drowning in derision.  

 Eventually Terrace got word of your grievances and offered part of his work to you. You accepted too soon without consulting Annie, happy to just rub it in Toji’s face that he’d be on his own carrying the bags. Simply the concept of it—Toji hunched over and covered in sweat with heaps of cargo—satiated your pride, and you’d count the days until he groveled and begged for your help again. 

Except that’s not the case. As you fight the urge to sink into the mud a seed of regret grows in a more reasonable part of your mind. You could ask for your position back, where he’d probably be waiting with that shit-eating grin of his and “I told you so” written all over his face. Or you could be stubborn and prove whatever point you’re trying to make. Stupidly headstrong, you swallow the urge to vomit and plod into the pig pen.  

The squelch of damp earth and God-knows-what underneath your boots is enough to make you sick. You’re balancing two full buckets of pigswill on either side of you, resisting the lack of steadiness that causes you to lean unfavorably. It’s no help that there’s filthy pigs all around you, snorting and trotting along. One bumps into the bucket and you shriek; your foot goes airborne and impending doom flashes before your eyes. Luckily, you gain stability and plant it firmly into the ground with an awful bubbling noise. The mess has soiled your boots coming up to your calves, and you frantically check for mud-to-skin contact. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it’d definitely be the end of your day. Suddenly, a whistle from the other side of the wooden fence grabs your attention. 

“Go on then, pig queen!” Toji yells, elbows propped on the edge. His accent gets thicker when he yells. He’s not affected by the smell in the slightest, and it almost looks like he’s breathing in extra hard to taunt the shortage of oxygen reaching your brain. 

“Fuck you!” you yell in a nasally tone. He adjusts his cowboy hat, “I’d focus on what’s in front of ya. Wouldn’t wanna slip in shit, right?” You scoff and continue to the troughs.  

You can’t imagine how Terrace, let alone anyone does it—from the constant clamor of livestock to sinking in pools of muck for hours. There’s dirt on your knees, clothes, in places you never imagined dirt could reach. The pigs seem excited as you place the pails on the rim, whereas you exert a long sigh for the fulfilled trek. They come running in unison as if something triggered in their brains, pushing past each other to get there first. Once they’re emptied, a partial weight lifts from your shoulders. You shoot an arrogant sneer at Toji, and watch the corner of his scar tip up just a little. You’re still pinned to the side, and a wet snout gently prods your exposed leg. It tickles and you laugh at its cluelessness. “Hey, I’m not on the menu.”  

As you slither out the crowd, a sneaky puddle attempts to take you out. You cling to the embarrassment, to Toji standing right there ready to mock you. You won’t give him the satisfaction. From there you take careful steps, one cautious foot after the other. Toji meets you around the entrance, and you’re about to reach the gate. You’re oozing confidence now; you might even brag to your father about the effortlessness of it all, that living on a farm is nothing, that you were able to accomplish anything— 

Slip. Crash! 

You’re knocked clean off your ass, so fast it doesn’t register until a few blinks pass. You hold a breath and the blurriness fades.  

Brown. It’s on your face.  

It’s truly everywhere—mud sloshing around in your boots, seeping into your clothes, sticking to the crevices, your fingers intertwined in the mass below.  

The emotion you try to stifle boils over into a horrified squeal, a tune that exceeds the pigs. And you scream and scream. Once for the mud and twice for the death of your designer boots. You’re so entwined in your own screams that you barely catch the laughter a few feet away.  

It’s him, doubled over with a practically red face. “I get you wanna be one of the pigs but you don’t hafta roll in it too!” Toji chortles. He can’t contain himself, wiping the tears on his glove. 

Your ears feel hot. “Shut the fuck up and get me out of here!” 

“Relax, relax. Gimmie a second.” The footsteps get further away, and you stumble to the gate to open. It doesn’t matter now that the damage is done, and you look like some terrifying swamp monster from myth. The lower half of you could only be concocted in a child's nightmares. 

Something snakes in the trampled grass, then it pauses. “Here.” Sooner than you can turn your head, you’re blasted with water. It rains on you like a thundershower and you cover your face from the assault. Denim weighs heavy, and your hair sticks to your face. You feel the dirt washing off, but now you’re soaked in a mixture of water and sodden debris. Wet, you’re spitting out water and treating your fingers like windshield wipers. The hose finally drops, and your eyes trail from the hand to the face.  

That shit-eating grin. 

“No need to thank me, miss piggy.” 

Your lip twitches. Should you kill him? Absolutely. Is it worth it? In this moment, yes. You’re doused, dirty, nose blind, and no longer hanging on to your act of humility. You have to get him back, at least once. It doesn’t matter if you have to wait all summer for it, creeping in doorways for the perfect time to demean him. There’s no level playing field—either your way or nothing. A smile stretches across your face. 

“You’re so right, darling. Now let me show you just how much I appreciate you.” You saunter to him, and he awaits with open arms. Before he can grab you, you dodge him and snatch the hose from the ground.  

Aim and fire, full force directly at his face. The blast knocks his hat off and into the air, swaying in the balmy breeze. His arm falls short of snatching it, plopping into the pen to blend with shit. You can’t hear the muffled curses he spouts, but damn is it satisfying to silence him. Then he reaches for you to which you promptly escape his span. You take time hosing down any remaining dry spots, and once the hose is down, he launches. You yelp and return to his face, and the abruptness makes him slip. Right into the mud you just shook off, he lands butt-first. It splatters his cargo pants and creates polka dot patterns on the white tank stretching to accommodate his frame. “You little-” 

Another burst of water. He tries to stand on slippery foundation and quickly falls, earth splashing back on him. You understand why he was laughing so hard and you can’t stop giggling at the misery of inescapable rain showers.  

“Looks like you needed some too! I can smell you from here!” you laugh. His snicker comes off more conniving than it should, and you brace for whatever hell you’ll have to pay later. He bolts up, and you make a run for it. Just when he thinks he has you, he slips again.  

“Poor grandpa! Someone get his life alert!” you cackle, dropping the hose and sprinting for the hills. You’re too afraid to turn around when you know for a fact he is mere feet away from capturing you. You cut through air, nothing but crumpling grass and laughter carried by the wind. It’s exhilarating...fun?  

You're confused by your own actions. You smell horrible, your hair is sticky, disgusting slop clings to you like a second skin, the sun is only baking the scent, and your self-proclaimed rival is chasing you.  

You should be mortified, and somehow, you’ve never felt better. 

Motes of dust scatter within the golden hue of mornings wake. The window’s cracked open, and remnants of last night's chill carry through sunrise. You’ve sat in this claw tub for way too long, melting in steam and lavender bubbles that slowly dissipate the longer you linger. A self-care day is what you need, especially after the “incident” that still makes your skin crawl weeks later. Simply your mud mask, waning candles, and rustling leaves. It’s rare you get silence like this nowadays, with Toji constantly on your back bickering about trivial problems.  

You can’t place your finger on what bothers you more, or if you’re really even bothered at all. Ironically, spending more time mulling over what you hate than actually hating him. You can mouth your contempt for him endlessly like an affirmation on deaf ears, but it never truly manifests.  

He’s annoying, selfish, crude, and disrespectful. 

Oh, and did I mention very annoying? 

It’s almost a bonding experience between you two; you’ve memorized the way his lips curve before a snarky remark, the deep crease on one side of his eyebrow when they furrow at something stupid you unintentionally did, his jaw clenching from held back words. His laugh—deep and resounding, unleashing a toxic mix of vomit and thrill in your stomach. You anticipate it, practice your insults in the shower for it, as if...you’re actually looking forward to it? 

You steep further into the fragrant bath, hoping you’ll somehow be sucked into an alternate reality where you don’t have to face those conflicting emotions. To your displeasure, the conflict is brought directly to you.  

A roaring engine disrupts your personal spa, and you jolt up. It sounds like a monster truck convention decided to congregate right below your bathroom window, and you definitely can’t relax under these conditions. You loosely wrap the towel around yourself and peer out over the windowsill. You can’t see a face, but you see that distinct cowboy hat stained over its silver conchos. 

“Hey!” you yell. No response, but how could you expect him to when the hood is propped up. He must be wrenching something inside judging by the way his back muscles methodically tighten. 

“HEY!”  

“TOJI!” That gets his attention and he squints above, wrench still in hand. “Oh! What are ya doing there?” 

“This is my bathroom you idiot!” 

He pans between the vehicle and your window. “Oops!” 

“Turn it off, I’m trying to have my beauty bath in peace!” 

  “Welp, can’t do anything about that now, can we?” He makes no attempt to turn it off, nor does he give you any more attention as he turns around and resumes working like nothing happened. 

You run downstairs completely haggard, mud mask hardly washed off with a pair of mismatched socks and a baggy shirt. The rumbling gets louder, and you don’t have the patience for appearances when you step into those clod-smeared boots.  

The screen door swings open and you march to the side of the house, towel bunched in your arms. 

He doesn’t regard you until you launch it at his face, which he promptly catches without looking. “Thanks, needed somethin’ to dry off.” He wipes the oil streaks from his face and neck while you stand there scowling. His eyebrows narrow. 

“What’s the problem now?” You should've predicted he’d say this, as every time a dispute arises over his uncivil actions he asks the same clueless question. 

“What...God, you’re so annoying sometimes! Do you not understand how it doesn’t make any sense for you to be here and-” He’s spacing off, scratching the side of his head with the wrench. It drives you up the wall when he acts like this. 

“Listen to me!” That triggers him back to the present, and the light flickers in his eyes just to deadpan you. “You done?” 

“No, I’m not done. Say you’re sorry” you command. He takes the hat off his head and places it on his chest. “My apologies, princess. I’ll be sure to call the company and let them know their machine is too loud for your prissy little ass” he smiles, coy and bowing. You nudge him and the wind rushes from his nose. 

“When you call them, let them know their piece of shit junk needs to be out of commission.” 

“Well, this piece of shit lasts a lifetime.” 

“What even is this?” You’re analyzing it, and it reminds you of the illegal three-wheelers certain people ride through the city. It has no seatbelt or roof, and a row of sharp spinning blades hooked to the back. 

“City girl’s never heard of this, huh? ‘Sa tiller. Gets the job done durin’ plantin’ season.” You step towards it, but Toji stops you from going further with his arm. “Don’t go near the blades.” 

“Obviously.” You shoo him and climb into the seat of tiller. You sink into the leather seat, lay back, and cross your feet on the wheel. Toji grimaces, but that subtle sign that you’re inconveniencing him eggs you on. 

“Get yer feet off the wheel.” 

“Mm, nah. It’s not hurting anyone.” 

“’S hurting me.” 

“Hmph, okay.” You switch your feet to the opposite cross, and he looks up to an invisible God, probably begging it to give him the strength to not throw you off. 

“What did I-” 

“Sorry, can’t hear you over the engine!” you scream. He sighs and hunches back over the hood. “Jus’ be quiet for me, have to finish this.” Funny how he asks for quiet in these deafening circumstances. 

You didn’t plan on watching him work, but you hate to admit it’s kind of interesting. It’s the quietest he’s ever been, sweat trickling down his temples from the apparent heat on the inside. This must’ve been what Annie meant at the beginning, about his silence and reluctance to speak unless being spoken to. The scars scattered on his bicep shift with the cranking wrench, and you can’t help but focus on it. They’re too deep to be cat scratches and healed with a bunched sheen under its darker edges. There’s one under his collarbone, too, peeking past his shirt neckline dark and jagged. Your mind wanders, for the past life he had—what was his family like, why does he choose to live here, why are there so many scars, what led him to- 

“You’re staring.” You snap out of it, to him wiping the excess oil on his shirt. 

“Sorry.” 

“Oh? Where’d that hospitality come from all of a sudden?” You can’t explain why, but there’s a solemn pit burning in your stomach. Perhaps you’d lighten up a bit, at least for now. “Appreciate it while it lasts” you remark. He grins and gets back to work. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Changin’ the ignition coil. That’s why she sounds like hell.” 

Your ears perk up, “She?” 

“Yup.” 

“Does she have a name?” 

“Nope.” 

“Can I name her?” He puts the replacement coil on, “Knock yourself out.” 

“Hmm…how about….Priscilla?” He can’t purse his lips quick enough to stop the laugh that escapes.  

“Hey! I think Priscilla’s a cute name” you add. “Yeah, for an old woman.” 

“No way, an old woman name would be something like ‘Gertrude’.” 

“Gertrude’s on the same level as Priscilla.” 

“Either way it’s fitting, isn’t it? An old woman for an old man.” His scar tips up. “Ha ha. Think I’m pretty fit for an old man, though.” 

Your eyes reluctantly snap to his chest muscles peeking through the shirt. “You manage.” He pushes the coil away from the flywheel. 

“Maybe Rosy? Oh, or Susie.” 

“Think I’ll just call ‘er (Y/N).” 

“Huh? Why my name?” 

“So when you make me mad, I can curse her out instead of you. Best part is she won’t talk back.” He tightens the last screws and shuts the hood. Immediately the banging stops, and the engine reduces to a whir. You clap sarcastically, “Nice job! You get a C minus.” 

“Why not an A?” 

“You’ll get an A when you stop pissing me off.” 

Sticky sunbeams melt and mold into your pores, stiff from the aftereffects of its suffocating warmth. The sky gives way to a heatwave, where shimmering hot sheets scorch the ground and ripple like a retreating ocean. Lionel taught you how to harvest fruit before the rooster’s crow, and you reaped the rewards of your labor all morning. You’re numbed to the moisture collecting on your face at this point, as its vicious, stuffy humidity swallows your breaths and envelops your bleary eyes. You chose to shut them over battling the sun, bathing in its essence. It would settle in the late afternoon and blend to a forgiving mess of sunset swatches, but in the meantime, you’d soak up a bronzing tan.  

You brought a blanket to the nearest tree you could find, an expansive canopy spearheading small manageable daylight. You’re leafing through the pages of a non-fiction novel you never finished with a makeshift flower bookmark tucked under your thumb. You occasionally stop to dive in the compensation for your earlier efforts; a basket of scarlet strawberries twisted around prickly stems. 

The book tugs from your grasp and you prop up your sunglasses, gazing at the perpetrator. 

It only takes a glance to notice how badly burnt Toij’s body is. Does he really need someone to remind him to apply sunscreen, a basic necessity, or did he get too wrapped up in his work again? Toji was, if nothing else, a hard worker. You caught yourself on more than one occasion observing him. You saw it in the way the other farmers freely asked for his help, and how he’d give it for nothing in return. He moved like the wind, stoic demeanor all consuming, to behave like the rough muteness he pushed upon himself. 

A rosy shade diffuses on the apples of his cheeks and clearly separates from the protected and unprotected parts of his flesh. Its shape outlines a tank top he must’ve been wearing with the bottom hiked up, bright rubescent pattern surrounding his surprisingly smooth pecs. You take a mental note to nag him about it next time. The smudged outline of your glasses reflects on his glistening lower abdomen and his chest heaves like a marathon in the desert.  

“What ya reading?” he asks. His eyes drag across the page. “None of your business” you retort, hazy and lax from summer’s embrace. He peers over the book and passes it off to you.  

“Don’t seem like the reading type.” He plops down on the grass with a basket of dirt and carrots, few contorted to an inedible extent. “Neither do you.” He digs his fingers in the basket and begins fishing out the deformed carrots. The usual banter, macerated by exhaustion, ghosts by with little intent. 

“If you’re looking for help, I don’t feel like it.” 

“I know.” 

You both don’t say anything for a while, taking in the warmth, the cicadas buzzing in a faraway tree, the brewing pause between your bodies, unsaid words binding you to selfish outcomes, depriving you of your deepest hunger. The book is no longer as interesting as you remember. You’re more inclined to watch the sunburnt farmer. 

He picks up another clump. Inching along the carrot is a ladybug. Toji regards it for a second with the same eyes that chop trees and drag metal. At first, he does nothing. Then you track the tip of his finger as it prods slightly, goading the ladybug onto it. He carries it with the same unwavering stoicism to a blade of grass, where the ladybug hops off and continues its journey.  

Speechless would be an understatement. Truthfully, he’s the last person you’d expect to act that way. Those battered palms, bruised and scarred, tattered with memories, could appear so gentle. Those same hands would afford the fragile beings of mankind a moment of mercy. Only you are granted the privilege of Toji’s micro movements; his shoulders slumping from their usual solidity, his eyelids relaxing, jaw unclenching. Is this what he wanted you to see? Is that why he came here, sitting in the shade of a rival you thought you had? You must be staring for too long because- 

“…What?”  

“Oh. Uh, nothing.” 

He returns to what he was doing.  

“It’s about the search for meaning in life. A psychiatrist's perspective.” 

“Your book?” He asks, sifting through the sod. 

“Yeah.” 

“So…did he figure it out?” 

“He believes that the primary human drive is not pleasure, but the pursuit of what we find meaningful.” He doesn’t react, but a curious part of you wanted him to respond. Tell you a story or spill his guts, lay bare in front of you so that you may latch on to something, anything that isn’t rumors or hushed whispers for the man unknown to everyone. He checks another carrot—it’s as if he’s looking past it, like a light switched off, engulfed in a reflection pulling him further and further. 

You point the tip of a strawberry to him and his attention diverts, “You want?”  

“Can’t. Hands full.”  

You eye them; thick and calloused, fingernails lined with soil, probably sore along with the rest of his body. You can’t bear to watch—surely not because you care, but because of your sudden aptitude to kindness.  

“Just come here.” He leans over cautiously, and the shock is palpable when you press it to his lips. He seems to contemplate the risk of poison for a second.  

“If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve happened already. Open.” He obediently parts his mouth, and you feed it to him. Toji’s eye contact stuns like a spell from a Greek myth—devastatingly enchanting and hard to disengage. Just when you think you have the upper hand, you’re quickly reminded that dynamic can easily change. He rolls his tongue over the bite mark and sucks the juices, and you can’t look away—you won’t. 

 It’s the sun. it has to be. It’s getting to you both.  

You flinch when his lips ghosts against your knuckles. Soft and slightly chapped. Sugary liquid pools at the plush center of his lips where your eyes linger for too long, and he licks that up too. It’s over as quick as it began. Then you’re stuck stirring in the disarray of your own deluded thoughts.  

His scar curls with a growing smirk. It’s a shallow cut, but sunken, nonetheless. You tell yourself it’s the weather when your thumb moves from the strawberry to his face. Languid, careful motions where the hollow of his cheek would be, like gaining the trust of a wild animal. He doesn’t budge, and you press it to the corner of his mouth. 

“How’d you get this mark on your face?” 

“Not important” he responds curt. 

“Why? I wanna know.” His jaw clenches, reappearing stiff and guarded. “Don’t push it.” 

You trace it, fixating, studying the feeling. You drag downwards, tugging it slightly.  

“…like someone cut you” you mutter. 

Suddenly, he stands up with the basket. His joy fades to indifference; eyes encased in a dense fog. You retreat to your side, and he doesn’t acknowledge you as he starts down the hill. 

“I-“  

“I have to get this to Lionel. See ya.” 

You’re given the back of him, receding into the distance. There’s a dull pounding in your ears, a twitch in your limbs that pleads for you to follow. But what would you say? What could you say? It doesn’t come to fruition.  

The space between you widens with each step. 

“-we’re expecting to see cloudy skies and storms for the re-” the portable radio buzzes in and out of connection, “-prepare for the weather by-”. Annie fiddles with the tuner to get it back on track. It crackles and scratches, but the connection can’t be regained, finally diminishing to static. 

You weren’t listening either way, huddled with your knees close to your chest on the window seat, resting your head as raindrops trickle down the glass and pitter-patter the windowsill. The trees bend to the will of the raging wind, and they’re being pulled every which direction. Ceramic settles behind you, and you crane your neck to Annie, then the novelty mug resembling an orange. You don’t reach for it, but you stare for a while, teabag bleeding burgundy under the millions of candles placed around. 

“Thank you for the tea.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

You’ve had a hard time sleeping lately. Conflictingly so, since you’d imagine more sleep would be had with Toji coming around less. It’s what you wanted. Him chasing you was exhausting, wasn’t it? His behavior, his manners, him—it was just a bother. You should be glad you haven’t seen him since the incident. 

If he pained you, why are you kept awake, fumbling with the covers, incessantly thinking of Toji? You put together witty remarks for when you cross paths again, new creative insults, schemes you’ll act out to piss him off—all of this for someone you tried to get away from for half the summer. You assumed a week would pass and everything would be back to normal. But one week turned into two, then three. Your stay is coming to a close, and as you reflect, you’re forced to reconsider the unspoken reality gnawing at your thoughts since the moment you first met. 

That you were free to be dirty, to curse, to learn, to get mud on your face and dirt underneath your fingernails. You could lounge in an outfit from days ago or dance in the fury of midsummer. You were stupid, but not inferior the way wealthy upperclassmen made you out to be. You had the freedom to be stupid. There were no hierarchies or social status between you—simply hard work and hostility. Somehow that, being tangled in the thorns of a never-ending war, felt better than the yacht parties you’d been accustomed to. 

He sets your blood aflame, but noting ignites a fire in you like Toji. 

Annie sits crisscross on the loveseat, warming her hands with the cup. You return her content smile.  

“Everythin’ alright, sugar?” 

“Think I messed up.” 

“Hm? How so?” 

“I feel like...I overstepped. Actually, I know I did, and I feel bad. Even though I think I shouldn’t.” 

Annie exhales a soft laugh, “Assumin’ this is about Toji?” 

You nod, and she traces the rim of the cup. “If ya don’t care about ‘im, don’t feel bad.” You don’t reply, and she continues, “Though...I have a sneaky suspicion you care more than you'd like to admit.” 

You bury your head further into you. “Feelings are weird” you mumble. 

“They defnintely are. But sometimes it’s good to listen to ya heart. Take it from an old lady.” 

“...” 

“When ya feel bad about somethin’ ya did, the best way’s to apologize.” 

You peek through your arms, “Has he ever told you? Like, about his life?” 

She wanders in thought, recollecting an old memory, “Nope. Youngin’ showed up on the farm one day all scratched up and been workin’ ever since.” 

If nobody knew, you wouldn’t expect him to comply with your demands. You’re conscious of what needs to be done, but doubt surfaces. What does my heart tell me? 

You start tying your boots and throw on a hoodie in a pile by the door.  

“Do you know where he is?” 

“Not a clue.” That’s fine. Today, you’d be the one chasing after him. 

The brunt of the storm smacks you in the face once the door flies open. “Careful out there!” she hollers, and you shut the screen behind you. Your fight or flight refuses to let go of the knob as the squall persists, invoking a shrouded sea of churning clouds and indigo, banging against the foundation of the house. You scale the side and notice the barn, no light inside. You go around the back and it’s the same, wheat failing to resist the storm. However, for a split second you squint and spot a flicker. It’s faint and the size of a firefly from your view, coming from the stables further down. There’s a chance it isn’t him, but you don’t have much room for hypotheticals.   

The safety of the overhang leaves you, and you’re in the middle of a downpour. Running, inching the line of being knocked off your feet from an abrupt gust. You’re submerged in seconds, but you don’t stop running. If your heart tells you to endure, then you will. Raindrops threaten to invade your eyes, whacking you repeatedly in the face, but you shut tight and go forward. The last stretch to the stable feels like clawing up a mountain. The flurry hauls your clothes, and your steps get heavier and heavier as nature batters the earth. 

Then the sleeve shielding your face grazes something solid. You glue yourself to the side of it and pry your eyes open. An oil lantern, shining bright in the dark. You shuffle around for the sliding door and slip inside. The interior is cozy, haybales piled wherever they could fit and a couple large wooden stables supported by beams. The power must’ve went out everywhere, oil lanterns casting dimly.  

Your instinct to breathe ceases when you see Toji. His cowboy hat is tilted back, paisley bandana tied loosely around his neck with an ear of wheat tucked in his teeth. He glances at the sound of the door slamming. You’re blanking, even after you mulled over those sleepless evenings. It doesn’t help that your heart won’t function properly.  

“...Hey” he says, a tone unrepresentative of his avoidance. He grins—in the exact way you like—and picks the straw out. 

You’re irritated he’s even attempting to talk to you as normal. 

“It’s rainin’. You should be inside.” He grabs his shirt and pats your face dry. You don’t complain; a musky scent of cedar and salt when you inhale. “I could say the same to you. Why are you out here?” you murmur through the cloth. 

“Horses get a little antsy when the weathers like this. Came by to calm em’ down.” He pets the blonde mane of one of lighter horses, covered in brown spots.  They look comfortable around him, loose lower jaw slanting to his touch. You’re forgetting how to talk. There he goes again, subverting your expectations. 

“What kind of horse is it?” 

“Spotted draft horse. She’s real gentle, wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

“She’s pretty.” He flashes his canines, “Her name’s Marie.” 

“Old woman name” you say under your breath. He laughs. “Wanna pet ‘er?” 

You’re shy but interested, shuffling closer to the stable. The tips of your ears blossom when his palm encloses your wrist, rough skin abrading yours. Then he guides you to the side of Marie’s neck. “You’re gonna pet here. Nice an’ slow, yeah?” he instructs, way too close. It’s silky, and you’re absorbed in the feeling of it on your fingertips. She neigh’s mildly and you jolt. Toji keeps you still. 

“Atta girl” he whispers, husky and painfully smooth in your ear. It fills your head like a shot of whiskey and a tipsy glow flows from your face. Your muscles tense, troubled from your anticipated apology and the unforeseen shift in feelings for him. There’s no way you can do this without stumbling. 

“I didn’t know you liked horses so much.” He lets go. 

“Yup. Used to have one.” You turn to him. His pleasant expression remains, but it’s solemn, bittersweet. You take a long breath and let it spill. 

“I’m sorry for what I did before. I realized I made you uncomfortable asking those questions. It won’t happen again.” 

He subdues his hum and he’s awkward in his stance, rubbing the back of his head like a guilty child. “I was never mad. I just...” He trails off. 

“Never mind that. Big man still pissed at you?” he asks, like mood switch occurred. If he won’t dwell on it, you’ll try not to either. You connect the dots to your father's pet name. 

“That’s what you call him?” you giggle. 

“Yup, since I got to the farm.” 

“I hope not, if he is I’ll probably never leave.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” It’s a humorless joke, wavering someplace unsure. 

“It would be if I never finished school.” 

“What ya majoring in?” You’re hesitant to say for the possible doubt he’ll display. You dance around the answer. 

“Promise you won’t laugh.” His expression contorts to confusion. “Fine...I promise.��� 

“Humanitarianism.” He goes blank like a mannequin, and by the way his lip fights a flit he’s holding in his laughter as much as possible. 

“Forget it-” 

“I didn’t laugh. What ya gonna do with your degree?” 

“I want to help people.”   

He folds his arms over his chest, “But you don’t wanna help me?” 

“N-not that kind of help. Like, housing help, financial help. No one should have to work as hard as you...” 

“So, you wanna help old broke runaways like me, huh?” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I mean it’s admirable, darlin’, but I work here cause I want to. ’S a good gig, takes the mind off o’ things.”  

Your mouth moves before your brain, “...What things?” 

“Thought you weren’t gonna ask me shit like that anymore.” 

“My bad.” 

“I’ll give you what you want.” He locks the gate to the stable. Your blood feels hotter when he’s fixed on you.  

“Y’know...the thing about foster care is you’re never guaranteed a good home, or even a home at all.” Toji simpers out of place, out of tune like a broken piano. “I was one of the lucky few that got sent home to home. Got attached just to get thrown back in the same shithole with the other rejects. It hurt at first, but after a while you get so used to the feeling that you’re not wanted or needed. And when a foster kid grows out of the system and they throw your ass on the street, gotta get it however you can.”  Though he tells it like the casual reminiscence of childhood, you know better than that. 

“So, I taught myself to survive, no matter the cost and regardless of who it hurt. I’ve done some irredeemable shit. Held people at gunpoint, beat them up for money, stole their valuables, all the shit they worked hard for.”   

“I fought for food, shelter. Hell, anything I could get my hands on. I never killed anyone but damn sure got close, all for an overnight motel stay and sometimes a couple cigs.”  He ambles to you and you automatically back up. Your space is squeezed to capacity, and whenever you get a portion of relief, he seals it. You take a step; he takes one more. 

“You wanted to know how I got this, right?” He taps the corner of his mouth where the scar is. 

“I entered a fighting ring for money, the kind that trades boxing gloves for knives. And boy, was I desperate. He chucked that blade at my mouth and I crushed his throat, sliced him across the eyes. I bled for a while but it kept me full for a few days.” Your back hits the door and he cages you.  

“‘Ventually the wanted flyers started coming out. Thought about turning myself in, but what kind of asshole admits to his crimes? So, I kept running, running from everything. I can’t remember how long I went for. But then I ended up here.”   

Rain pelts the roof. You remind yourself to inhale and exhale. It’s a conscious thought, in and out, processing the secrets revealed. There’s nowhere to hide, yet you don’t feel unease—solely the faint pang of sorrow. Toji appears warm under the rich glimmer. The rugged contours meld to his lowered gaze, lips twisted in a frown you hardly recognize. He looks entirely different, disconnected from your quarrels. To you this feels like it should be an attempt at intimidation, but the way he's boxing you in screams loose and unsteady. A wounded beast bearing its fangs as a defense mechanism. His arms are corded in muscle and riddled with injuries, likely from the upsets, days of begging for food, wondering when his next meal will be or if he just consumed his last, where he will go to survive, how he will survive.   

“Are you scared now?”  

He’s a vagrant. He lived on the fringes of society, avoiding the law and committing horrific acts for his own benefit. He hurt people. Who’s to say he wouldn’t hurt you next? Annie was right. Toji is right. You need to be afraid.  

Instantly, his little quirks made sense. The barriers he built and his hesitation to speak, forbearing and tolerant in spite of the bruises. He was afraid of being thrown away again, to be the same teen casted to the streets—proven useless. 

You’re inches away. It’s unsaid, begging you to repel him. There’s no rationale in your actions.  

You stand on your toes and catch his lips in a kiss.  

Brief, charged with the comfort that got lost on your tongue. His lips requite yours and leave traces of bourbon. You didn’t know he drank. It’s so brief you linger in the aftermath of heat, hoping you can satiate your interest with two, maybe three more kisses. 

Your noses graze each other. His half-lidded eyes captivate you, freezing you in time, to plinking mist and airy touches, yearning on the brink of impulse. He hovers over your lips, shuddering on the expel. Then he withdraws. 

“Ya have no sense of danger.” 

You can’t think straight, haven’t been able to for some time now. “You’re not scary. Just annoying.”  

“...I'm glad.” 

He grabs his sherpa lined jacket off a haybale and wraps it around your torso. It’s far too big and pieces of hay poke your lower back. He pulls the hood over, “This should be good. C’mon, let’s get ya back in the house.” Toji opens the stable doors. Tiny droplets percolate at your frigid feet, and you stick your head out. 

Fog clings to the edge of the horizon. The storm ended, and the land washed anew.  

“Ouch.”  

“Careful, hun.” 

The sewing needle pricks your thumb from the other side of the glove again and you flinch, though you probably have tons of holes in your skin at the moment. You’re by no means the best at sewing, but it’s not like Toji could do any better based on the tears in the leather. You’re curled like a shrimp on the dining chair, weaving the needle through a heavy-duty fabric you found in the sewing basket Annie gave you. Floral pin cushions, yarn, thread, and bunches of fabric are splayed across the gingham table.  

It’s likely Toji would’ve slaved it to the bone and never ask for another pair, so when you got to your room and found them in the jacket pocket you felt inclined to assist. Plus, it’s a good distraction from the half-embarrassment half-shock you grieved from your boldness the other day.  

A draft pierces the chiffon curtains. It’s getting colder and the final day of your vacation has arrived, both short and torturously long. You think about the things that passed the time, the person that shortened your days to summertime laughter and mischief. Before the farm, you would’ve relished in a going away party with a performer and glittering spotlight. Yet, as cattle moo and land are tilled for the upcoming season, the profoundness of being ordinary is more pleasant than the former. 

You pull the last thread through the patch and admire your amateur mend, navy fabric accented amongst the mahogany leather. Vanilla and lemon permeate the house while a bundt cake rises in the oven. 

Annie hands you a few stationery notecards smudged with flour fingerprints. “Write somethin’ nice for ‘em. Don’t think they’ll be able to say goodbye before you go. ‘S gettin’ busier and busier nowadays.” You nod and start writing messages of appreciation for Lionel and Terrace, thanking them for putting up with your cluelessness.  

“Should I write one for you, too?” 

“You can jus’ tell me now” she beams. 

“Well, Annie, thank you for everything—for showing me around, cooking for everyone, making sure we’re all healthy and full. Most of all, thanks for treating me like family.” 

She tussles your hair, “You’ll always be family, honeybun.” 

Hooves on stone trot near the house and your heart skips a beat. You walk to the screen door and see Marie’s long mane, then Toji holding the reins. He looks like a true cowboy, double stitched western belt with a taut plaid flannel and chestnut cowboy hat to match his boots. You open the door and lean on the porch column. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” he calls. 

“Usually, guys say that when they have an expensive car.” 

“Well, this here’s an expensive horse. That good enough for ya?” 

“...I guess it’ll have to do” you say, continuing to Marie with a delicate caress on her neck. 

He holds his hand out, “Up.” 

“To where?” 

“Stop askin’ so many questions.” You roll your eyes and grab his wrist. He abruptly hauls your body weight over Marie and you squeak. It's higher than you thought and you struggle to adjust your legs in the right position on the saddle. 

“Might wanna hold on.”  

You scoff, “I can handle myself.” As soon as you say that, Marie breaks into a sprint. You would’ve flown off the mare if not for your flailing arms finding safety around Toji’s waist. “You did that on purpose, you ass!” you scream.  

“I have no idea what ya talkin’ ‘bout.” You can hear the smile when he says that.  

Hammered dirt belches behind as you leave a thick forest similar to the one you drove through for your arrival. It’s a scene from a storybook, carving through a colorful meadow bursting with wildflowers. They teeter in the headwind and so do you, hair whipping onto your face from the speed. The canopy that once enveloped you becomes a faint, fading outline against the sky and bushes shrink to specks. The landscape melts like an impressionism painting. 

Toji has expert control over the mare and his stature stands tall in spite of haste. You scale the hills, appreciating the natural foundation carving willowy trees, the miles of foliage, the cattails in a small sparkling river etched in a meandering bank. Birds sing their evening songs, and an animal rustles through the grass. Eventually you pause at the summit, immersed in a vast, unspoiled scenery stretching infinitely. Toji hasn’t said much, but neither do you.  

“I thought you’d wanna see this” he mutters. 

“How come?” 

“When ya weren’t working, you’d just climb to the hilltops and... stare. Never knew what you were staring at, but I assumed it was the view.” 

“You don’t see stuff like this in the city. It’s so peaceful here.” 

“It never gets old.” You look at him, corners of his mouth mellow. You recall the way they felt and butterflies involuntarily bloom from a deep pit in your stomach. 

You yank the hat from his head and try it on. “Hey, give it here.” You duck his grasp and push it down.  

“It looks cute on me.” 

“So what?” 

“You don’t think it matches my shoes?” 

“I think you’re a brat.”  

“Hmm” you say, feigning contemplation. “You should know, women don’t like angry old men. It’s so uncute.” 

  “Heh, really. I’m uncute?” he laughs. “Yeah, among a few other things.” 

“Well I’m sorry, princess, but you’re a real pain in the ass too.” 

“The feeling’s mutual” you retort. 

“...Is it?” You don’t have a remark for that. The sun recedes into the horizon, radiating burnt orange and red. He uses the reigns to guide Marie back in the direction of the farm. “I’ll miss the countryside.” The brim of his hat dips over your eyes and you don't correct yourself when you lean to his back, calmed from the rocking sway.  

Toji pulls the reigns at the stairs and gets off. You impassively accept his aid as he  

 scoops and sets you down.  

The buzzing porch light attracts moths with its fluorescence. Amidst the prolonged awkward silence and clumsy gestures, you’re searching for your soul’s response like Annie mentioned. Whenever you tried, the message got tangled on your tongue. Given another chance, it eludes you again. 

“I guess this is it.” 

“Yup” he agrees. 

“Try not to miss me too much.”  

He smirks, “I’ll do my best. Goodnight, little miss.” 

He left and it’s time for you to get some sleep. But you can’t. You’re wide awake, glued to the ceiling thinking about him like your life depends on it. Maybe the instigator in you was waiting for confrontation, or the truth hurts more than you thought it would. You sit up like you’re expecting something, like you just lost a long-fought battle. You need the last word.  

It’s a quaint home with tawny wood accents. Jacket and gloves in tow, you can’t formulate a single justifiable reason for being at his front door. You lie and tell yourself it’s to return his possessions, as if you ever cared, like his hat isn’t resting on your dresser. You knock twice. 

Toji unlocks the door wearing nothing but his jeans, hair shaggier than usual. “Look who’s here” he says, a tinge of shock and something sweeter. You shove the items to him. “Your jacket, and uh…your gloves were bad, so I sewed them up. Try to take better care of your things.” He slings it to the side. 

“Heh. Yes, ma’am.” 

“So…um.” 

“Is that all you’re here for?” Not in the slightest. You’re here to get something off your chest, right? You’re not even sure what you’re mad about anymore. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Alright then, see ya in the mornin’.” The door slowly winds closed, but you interrupt, “Were you trying to insinuate something?”  

It stops and he cracks it further, smile growing. “Not tryin’ to insinuate anything I haven’t noticed already” 

You’re burning under his gaze. “Wha…I swear, your ego is insane. You should be grateful I’ve been so nice-“ 

“Your eyes tend to…” he regards you from head to toe, “…roam. You’re not as subtle as you think.” 

“Like I wanna look at you.” 

“I wouldn’t mind if ya did.” 

“God, you’re so far up your own-“ 

“You haven’t left yet.” His relaxed demeanor aggravates you, as if he's fully aware of why you’re here. He edges closer, chest inches away from yours, voice slow and gravelly in the dead of night. 

“There’s somethin’ you want, right? Ask for it.”  

Your pulse travels to your ears. Longing teetering on the cusp of fire. 

“Fuck this.” You turn to leave, when suddenly your arm gets snatched back and pulled into the room. The door shuts and you’re flung against it, though there’s no room to move when Toji’s pressed chest-to-chest. His breathing heaves, and you can feel it rising and falling laden with yours as he’s loomed over you. 

“What’s with the sass, huh?” he chides. His grip is bruising, but the small victory of a sinking composure sends a chill up your spine you’d rather not think about. 

“You started it, don’t act so innocent now.” You can tell he’s physically holding back, the shakiness in his little breaths becoming more evident. The wild blaze in his eyes eats you up with greed. 

“You really need to be taught some fucking manners.” 

“You’re gonna punish me?” You’re both at a whisper, too scared to speak the words you’ve been keeping to yourselves. 

“I wanna do so much worse.” 

“Then do it.” 

He holds your neck in place and you succumb to raw and unrestrained fervor. Rough, uncoordinated kisses being dragged over the expanse of your lips and you’re hardly able to maintain the pace. Your free hand curls through his tresses and pushes him deeper into you. He groans through those rushed, bruising kisses reddening your lips and immediately hunts for more.  

You didn’t expect Toji to be a gentle lover by any means, but it’s the way his mouth never leaves yours, a certain thirst that can’t be satiated no matter how much he drinks. You bite his bottom lip, teeth collide and he repeats the feast all over again. You can’t tell if he’s trying to savor it or devour you in one go.  

His hands snake from your neck to the fat of your ass, and he delivers a quick smack before hoisting you around his waist. Trails of spit connect where you part for air, but he swiftly chases it with tongue, pushing into your mouth and clouding your head. You intertwine, wet and feverish as it explores your mouth.  

He’s ruthlessly scouring fulfillment, drunk off the pleasure he finds in swallowing your moans and traversing your numbing lips. You’re sweating, hot in all the right places, and you return the favor with similar passion. Your lower back aches but he doesn’t give any inclination that he’ll let up soon, grinding on the delicate, sticky lace of your panties exposed from your hiked up dress.  

“Fuck, I can feel it through your clothes” he groans, lazily undulating his hips.  

“S-shut up- ah!” Your stammering gets caught in a moan when the fabric presses against your clit just right. He wears a sleazy grin, moving slower to coax the barely audible whimper that escaped you a moment ago. “I wouldn’t mind if ya made a little noise” he husks. You’re shaky, trying to compose your trembling vocals threatening to call his name. In regular circumstances, you would’ve let yourself have it. But this is Toji, and the mischievous urge you reserve for him wants to shoot down his boosted ego. 

“Maybe you’re not doing good enough.”  

“Really...” Toji’s huffs a humorless laugh, and you have half the mind to acknowledge that you just fucked up. He enriches the kiss and movements get a little angrier, bulge rutting into you furiously.  

“Then I’ll make it so good for ya, darlin’” he rasps, “So good you’ll hafta beg me.” 

It’s impossibly big, and sliding against the aching mess restrained in his pants doesn’t quell your concerns. You swear you can feel the dim thump thump thump through it. 

You unlatch again, severing a trail of spit when you briefly make eye contact. They’re crazed, far and near at the same time and somehow sparkling the prettiest shade of hazel green. He immediately claims space on your neck. Sucking and biting, feral groaning between your pulse point that drums whenever his appendage glides along a sweet spot. His teeth graze harsh against your skin and you can feel purple and blue burgeoning like watercolor splotches on an untouched canvas.  

And he must be long gone, pinning you between the door and his haughty strength, spit glistening on your neck. You’re using whatever pride you have left to clamp your mouth shut, though it’s obvious to Toji as his lips curl when your breath stutters. He detaches with a wet smack, and you can't angle away from the onslaught of tender kisses along the underside of your jaw.  

He lifts you across the room, to the edge of his wooden platform bed draped in a deer pattern quilt. Your knees are wobbly on the descent and it hits when your feet touch the ground, almost slumping onto the mattress. Before you can, he grabs a fistful of hair at the back of your head and holds you upright. 

“Stand straight” he barks, dangerously commanding. In one fell swoop, using one hand, he flips the buckle on his belt open and yanks it out the loops. His pants sag at his hips and the tent peaks with more room. He wraps the leather around your wrists and ties it over itself, securing tight—maybe too tight—at the end.  

“On your fucking knees.” You don’t drop on the first order.  

“Make me.” Typical—but he’s happy to guide you. He tugs your hair to the ground, and you thud onto the hardwood floors by your knees.  

You knew Toji was hot, stealing glances of his shirtless torso plowing in the summer rays—but God, he truly is alluring. Straight below him you get the best view of the veins winding down his lower abdomen, the planes of his abs shining in the already low light. Underneath his pecs, full chest pulling taut with yearning, unruly need. In no time he unzips his fly and kicks his pants at his ankles, revealing firm boxer briefs and a dripping, milky stain trailing to the side. Your eyes follow, where his throbbing cockhead peaks out, rosy brown with pearls of greedy precome dribbling down. You can’t resist staring, devouring the sight and adding onto the stickiness coating your inner thighs. You lean in and pepper a few kisses on his tip. He hisses. 

“Are you losing your composure?” you ask, reveling in his twitching abs. He grins, and you return the same, “Not yet. You’ll know when I do. I promise.”  

You lick a long, mouthwatering stripe on it and he rasps a groan. He’s quick to snatch your scalp and tilt up, forcing you to gaze at him. “Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.” They appear darker, drunken. 

He tugs the boxers down and his cock springs out centimeters from your face, glistening and flushed. He taps it on your lip and smears the sheen. You don’t break eye contact as required, especially when you lick your bottom lip to taste him. 

 “Fuck, such a slut.” He prods at your mouth and you gladly open, closing your puckered lips around the bulbous tip. “Nice and open for me” he mutters. It’s partly a mutter, resembling a hoarse ramble as he slides the length of his veiny, thrumming cock past your cheek fat constricting around him.  

“Yeah, t-that’s it—fuck—just like that.” Your eyes water and beaded tears gather at your lashes, but he craves the back of your throat—he’ll make it fit if he needs to. You’re adjusting to his size, forcing yourself to accommodate him and hollowing your cheeks as best as you can, fulfilling a twisted desire to satisfy him. Your palate scraping his sensitive tip elicits a deep, gravelly moan that sends vibrations straight to your clit.  

“Mm, that pretty mouth taking it so well f’me.” You open your throat and allow him to push further, swelling a noticeable bulge through your skin. He’s straining your mouth to capacity, and it’s only when your nose meets his pubes and his balls are flush with you that you try breathing.  

It’s no use with his cock barreling down your throat. He keeps a firm grip on the back of your head, watching your body retch at the size of him for amusement. Then he pulls out and you dry heave from the sudden influx of normal air in your lungs. You’re soaked all the way through, hazy, hurting, but desperate for more. Too horny to remember your pride. What even is pride when you can’t tell the difference between drool and tears? 

You’re French kissing his dick as if he’s not there, slobbering and licking it up, rolling your tongue over his frenulum like an animal in heat. Shame will overcome you by morning; in the meantime, you’ll indulge, drain him so that he can’t fathom speaking the word “brat” again. You loll your tongue and he smiles. 

“I didn’t even fuck you yet and you’re already this bad?” He’s one to talk when his comebacks crack at the back of his throat, muscles sweaty and tense from your ministrations. “I’m a good man, so I’ll help ya out.”  

Without warning, he drives himself all the way down your throat. You gag, but he’s relentless. He has hands on both sides of your head and he puts his foot on the edge of the bed, angling himself to probe deeper in your throat. Laden balls slap your chin and an amalgam of sloshing and gagging bubbles from the inundated scene in your mouth. Obscene noises cloud your ears. You can only lean on the support of the bed and take every brutal, solid thrust. His groans accelerate, “You’re—hngh—droolin a little bit, huh, princess. Haah—is it t'much for you, hm? T-tell me baby, fuck.” 

It really is. It’s so intense; eyeliner smudged across your face, tears shimmering, drool coating your puffy lips and his cock rubbing your voice raw. He uses you like a fleshlight and your panties are soaked through. The twitching gets more apparent and he channels a string of curses as his hips lose coordination. “On your f-face or—ungh, your mouth. Choose darlin'.”  You respond by staying still, looking at him with what little eyesight you have through cloudy tears.  

“Such a pretty comeslut” he moans, “Don’t be wasteful—hah-ah—you’re gonna be soo fucking good and swallow it all, okay?” He might as well be rambling to himself, mouthing off on questions you couldn’t possibly answer. His bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans and curses at the precipice. Hips stuttering, legs quivering sporadically, “(Y/N), m’coming, coming—ugh, fuck—oh fuck.”  

You see the exact moment he disregards ego; head lulled back, lip sagging open while he chases the high. Guttural groans meander in the space, and he pumps enough come from his spit-soaked balls to coat your throat. You wince and fresh tears are stirred from the sheer amount you’re gulping. He lags and finally relaxes, twitching sensitively when you swallow with his half-hard length still inside. Then he shudders once more when he retreats. 

Toji leans down to kiss you, wrapping tongue over tongue. You’d hope the kisses soothe your chafed throat, but to no avail. It’s not ideal that there’s a tingle in your knees, and the same position made your legs go numb. Your wrists burn as well, diagonal lines creasing your skin around the leather. Luckily, Toji scoops you and sets you rather gently on the mattress. That’s the extent of his kindness, however, as he begins shredding the straps from your dress. They snap with a pop, the sound of money going down the drain. The luxurious silk is torn from you and you’re indifferent. There’s an unquenchable need for him—everywhere, under you, inside you, however you can achieve closeness. “I need you. Now” he grunts. 

He manhandles you on your stomach with your ass raised in the air. Cool wind brushes against the pounding fever between your legs, and the sopping lace hangs by a thread.  

“Shit, you’re wet.” It’s obvious from the outside, drenched fabric a shade darker, fused uncomfortably to your pulsing pussy and reflecting on your plush thighs. He won’t take his eyes off it; he stares like he can eat through them. He peels the fabric back painfully slow, watching it furl into itself. “These just get ‘n the way.” Some slick leaves with it and slides down his hand, then he absorbs the main course. 

Glistening, syrupy fluid blankets your pussy and forms cobwebs of mess around your inner thighs and taint. You’re so wet it’s uncomfortable, and you shift around on your knees trying to quell the inescapable throbbing in your clit. He spreads your cheeks apart, practically salivating, “Look at ya.”  

Your windpipe was ripped from you, but you can scarcely hoarse “Stop staring.” His hot laughter sends shivers through you, but he holds you still before you can move forward. “Aww, too wet for your own good?” 

“Must be so sensitive” he coos, veiled in feigned concern. The pad of his thumb hovers, damn near salivating. “Tell me where it hurts, darlin’.” He flicks gently over the bud and you flinch. “Here?” 

He rubs calculated, unhurried circles on it. It doesn’t suffice—it couldn’t, because each time you lean to his touch, he recedes just a little. Because of course he wouldn't let you satisfy your desires without paying first. It’s maddening to almost get what you want and fall short repeatedly. You whimper pathetically, and he teases, “I know, darlin’, I know.”   

“Hurry up already” you whine. He quickly lands a stern, stinging swat to your ass and you recoil. “No attitude. Had enough’a that.” 

He positions two fingers at your glossy entrance, “Want help? Show me how bad ya want it.” You should’ve told him to go fuck himself, or at least you would have if you weren’t trembling with carnal hunger. You turn back to him glassy-eyed and he smiles—sympathy won’t work here. So you slope over his waiting fingers and glide them inside. They’re thicker than you thought they’d be. A delicious burn around the ring of your cunt from your walls stretching, it takes some adapting to get used to it.  

Once you do, though, you’re bouncing on them knuckle-deep, coating his palm in juices sluicing down his wrist. He doesn’t move an inch, but he drags his digits in a ‘come hither’ motion that sends tiny sparks bursting through your body. The notion of fucking yourself on his fingers should’ve been obscene, but you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. You’re panting, wiggling your hips with buzzing stars in your vision at the way it scrapes and kneads your walls. “You can’t hate me that much. Suckin’ me up and I’m not even movin’” he taunts. 

You don’t realize how loud you’re moaning, how your pussy talks louder than you do, sloppily sliding and squelching. “Fuck—you’re so messy. Where’s your resolve, huh? Nothing mean to say?”  

“Hah-ah” You clench rapidly, heartbeat in your ears. Until your stuttering heart and legs get worse, and you’re losing momentum. Your muscles burn from the inside out like a tiring workout, and you can’t keep up the pace that would’ve attained ecstasy. Just like that, it’s ripped away from you. 

And you cry. 

Hot, frustrated tears spill down your cheeks and you stop moving. He removes his wrinkled fingers. One side of the mattress sinks near you, and he thumbs the tears from your blushed cheeks and nose, your dazed lashes and pouty lips. “S’okay.” He pecks the corner of your eye, prompting a tear he samples. “Done fightin’ me?” 

You nod absentmindedly. “What do you want?” It’s simple, but you make eye contact with him. Jaw clenched, huffing as if he’s battling his own assurance. Your eyes water again. “Please...” 

You can’t read his face, but he leaves the mattress. It’s eerily quiet.  

“Y’know just how to get me.”  

A shattered gasp dies in your throat when you feel a warm, cruel stripe from your clit to your taint. Once, twice, his broken puffs fanning the flames. Both hands spread your legs wider and he nuzzles your folds, placing open-mouthed kisses, savoring your arousal. Then he immerses himself.  

He put up a good farce for a while, but the crumbling began at his desperate, tangled tongue—ravenous and starving, he ate you like a decadent main course he’d never taste again. He was starved—slurping and sucking, releasing with a juicy smack and diving back in. He’s on his knees, grunting low at your drooling slit. He didn’t care about your quivering thighs, honeyed liquid building in layers on his chin, the weak cries you managed. None of it mattered. Because you—you were heady and sweet, and as he drowned in your scent, he wished to be breathless forever.  

“S’fuckin’ good—oh, fuck, make a mess on my face.” He swats your ass, pointed tongue massaging your clit while he gropes the doughy flesh. It’s pliable in his hands and it gives him something to anchor while he drawls lecherous swipes over your swollen gooeyness. “Ngh—p-please—close-” Your stomach turns knot after knot, damp with sweat and sensing a rapid euphoria surging all too fast. Your mistake for announcing it, because he focuses his attention on a self-indulgent make-out session with your clit. “Come. Come on my face, princess—” You start to spasm, and the vulgar noises coming from Toji disperse in your ears. 

“Toji” you moan, and sooner fall apart in his arms. White-hot pleasure courses through your convulsing cunt and a chain of violent aftershocks render you silent. What makes you even shakier, though, is that he doesn't stop. 

He cleans his plate, imbibing the perfumed essence gushing from you. He peppers kisses around your contractions, deaf to your croaked sobs. If you weren’t bound, you’d push his head away. You attempt to use your foot to nudge him off, but you didn’t expect to make a dent in someone his size. He intertwines his hands with your sweaty ones, calm thumb swaying back and forth; it would be comforting if he wasn’t ruining you at the moment.  

The intensity of his deliberate tongue only makes the aftershocks worse, and your hands start to jolt as you cry out, “Ahn--no more, p-please!” You feel his smile on your folds and he persists. His lapping gets more aggressive and so do your tremors, loud and unrestrained moans torn from you.  

He finally unlatches, landing a final smack on your puffy pussy. Your heads swimming in an infectious trance, but you’re undeserving of a break as you whirl behind you and see him pumping his flushed cock. It stands at attention and even seems bigger than before, colored deep with need pearling at the divot. 

“Need you or ’m gonna go crazy.” Toji keeps a firm hand at the base of your spine—it arches your back and shoves your words into the bed. He drags his bulbous head along your sensitive cunt, collecting the slick trickling onto the damp sheets before rimming the slit. A hint of fatigue crosses your face and he takes notice. “Heh, done already? We haven’t even started yet.” 

The image of him entering you for the first time burns into your memory; his brows are knitted, bottom lip tucked under teeth and his breath hitches. If you were fucked out, he was getting there. He presses into your spine like he’s trying to prevent himself from coming on the spot, paused but lingering. Tunnel visioned on your soaked, bulging pussy stretching around him, snuggling his leaden length like a heated blanket. And you drink in the pain, a dulcet blaze engulfing you as sore muscles clench and unclench.  

“You’ve been quiet, pretty thing” he muses, “Where’s your resolve, huh? Nothin’ mean to say?” With his veins adorning your walls and your mushy brain bouncing around in your head, you can’t bring yourself to talk shit. He pulls out completely, watching a mix of precome and wetness connect your bodies. 

Suddenly, he bottoms out. “Ahn--fu-ah!” It shreds a whimper from you and he mocks your cracking moans, though he seems to be breaking, himself. The sharp snap of his hips contacts skin-on-skin, earning each sloppy slap echoing in the room. His lips are parted, swamped in infinite, unbridled lust. The carnal itch he’d been holding off on for weeks seeps through, satiating his most indulgent appetite. “O-oh, God, shit, look at the m-mess you’re making.” He drives out to his frenulum and shoves it back in with no mercy, no sign of slowing down. Long, deep strokes leaving you slack jawed and teary. Every drag of his dick imprints his name on your tongue, heavy balls smacking your tender clit.  

“You hear that? Listen.” He goes quiet, to let the indecent plap plap plap’s resound. Your cheeks turn hot from humiliation. The side rail of the bed screeches the hardwood floors, and the belt buckle you’re secured to clicks occasionally.  

“You’re my filthy slut” he grins, striking your rouged cheek. He’s rough, but you weren’t searching for friendliness, neither of you did. At your core, you knew it—Toji bullying himself into your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. A poison so incredibly captivating, you’re burning just to feel his crowning ardor. 

He’s sandwiched between your swollen lips and he can’t get enough, virtually drunk from it. He winds another branding swat on your backside, then the other. The crackling fire of his hand thwacking delicate flesh merges pleasure with pain. “You've been such a brat all summer” he taunts, “Needed me to put you in your place, huh, you fucking slut?” Another mean swat, and he laughs crudely at you little gasp. “You like this shit, don’t you? Wanna be manhandled like a fucking whore.” Both cheeks are a severe fiery color, beginning to welt, but he resumes. And you’re drenching him. A creamy, gooey ring forming at the base of his dick, tracing translucent strings when he pummels your poor leaking pussy. 

“M’sorry, so s-sorry” you babble. Apologizing for what? You don’t know, but the delirium spills truths you should’ve voiced ages ago. You're utterly incoherent; you might as well stay silent. “Aww, I know” he cloys, soft and sultry compared to the angry strokes he’s delivering. Shockwaves burst and fizzle on your clit and you flutter around him. Your ass ripples against him, hoarse voice funneling strings of curses, scrotum pummeling your overworked bundle of nerves. You want to come so bad it hurts, and you find yourself arching a little harder, spreading your legs a little wider—just begging him to use you entirely, to melt, become his. 

“Pleasepleaseplease” you whimper, at the height of your intensity. Then sweltering, frenetic spasms suffocate Toji’s shaft as you ride the orgasm seemingly crashing into you. You shudder violently, pleading with your body to attain some level of poise. It has other plans, however, provoking you to flitting tears from dragged-out, toe-curling tremors. You grip him like a vice and he struggles to pull out, but when does he’s rubbing circles on your aching nub. You’re lost in a bottomless sensation, but you hear his voice in your dampened ears, “Mm, I got ya.” 

The pressure on your wrists lessens, and you realize you can move them freely. Your arms are numb returning to a normal position, and you support yourself on your feeble elbows when you feel your legs being parted again. In the fleeting instant you’re allowed to settle, the vast trail of his tongue laps at your shuddery cunt. "P-please wait—ngh, I can’t-” you wail, and you turn to the commotion to see Toji, growling and devouring your silken arousal.  

He’s absolutely corrupted, a feral glint in his blearily blinking eyes, chest heaving salaciously as he kneads your thighs. You paw at his hair, toiling to crawl away from his unsparing mouth but he follows. He releases you and you inch away from him. “Where ya goin’? Heh, tryna run?” he teases. You don’t get very far, because he grapples your waist and pulls you back. “Not done ‘till I say it’s done.”  

Then he’s climbing on the bed with you, and you can do nothing but snivel in protest as he maneuvers you to hike your leg over his. He lays on his side, locking you in his embrace and smears his cock between your puffy folds. “Am I being mean to you?”, he slides in with ease, savoring the sweet mess spewing on cue, “’M sorry, I’m just an ‘angry old man’, after all.”  

He pounds your chubby cunt with wild abandon. You feel each vast stroke pummeling your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. You can’t close your legs—as badly as you want to—and you’re forced to endure frantic twitching from your lit nerves. He strips your breasts of the flimsy lace bra and alternates among pinching your nipple and molding the valley to his palms. He twists it harsh and you muster a pathetic babble, to which he laughs—mocking and unhinged, “My poor baby, you can’t handle it anymore.”  

Anymore was an understatement, it was overwhelming—to a degree that you’d gone quiet, enveloped in vehemence. You're scratching up his bicep with the other tangled in the sheets, knuckles turned white and your head thrown back. You want to push him off, but you’re milking his stuttering hips, drawing him closer. It isn’t enough and it’s too much. “F-fuck, it’s so swollen” he moves from your chest to your vulva, “I can touch right? Y-yea, you don’t mind.” His intoxicating voice is at a whisper in your ear, laying like liquor in your cotton-filled mind. With his cock dragging against your walls and hammering your g-spot, mercilessly circling his pads on your clit, eliciting every short “ah, ah” from your swollen lips, you’re far from combative.  

He precisely rolls his hips and it’s unbearably hot, broken mewls fleeing you. Your mouth sags, drool shameless down your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. He wraps his hand around your throat, boring into your teary eyes. You can’t escape his overbearing presence, isolated from everything besides his eye contact. He is everything.  

“Who’s pussy is this?” He gradually squeezes tighter and you pule in response. Since that didn’t work, he accentuates the words with every tantalizing thrust: 

“Who’s” 

“Pussy” 

“Is this?” 

You narrowly choke out, “Your pussy”, and like something snapped his rhythm get faster, nastier. The asphyxiation reaches you brain and floods you, aswoon on a pillowy cloud. He’s faltering, pumps getting sloppier, “Thaaat’s right, ‘nd I’ll use this pretty pussy whenever I need.” His stomach flinches but he doesn’t stop chasing that high, eyes thoroughly glassed, “’N you’re gonna be a good girl and take it—ha, f-fuck—be a good girl, o-okay?” Your pupils retreat to the back of your head, and you arch off the bed as your body begins to tremble. He’s glued to you, “One more, let it out f’me. Please, fuck, I need it—hah—need you to come on my dick—”  

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, and you unravel. A stream of liquid coats the blanket and you’re speechless as you convulse uncontrollably, legs betraying you for strong spasms. You go limp but Toji props you up, bucking his hips when his own legs start to jolt. “That’s a good girl—Ohh yes. Y-you're so good f'me, princess. Coming—hahh—gonna come all over your pretty cunt—”  

His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy, vile pumps before he pulls out. He spurts all over your tummy and hypersensitive vulva, painting it in thick white layers. He persists, groaning until he’s fully hollow, emptying his sack in globs. His staggering pants and shaking reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted weight. You weep softly, clinging to him as he presses selfish kisses from your lips to your wet lashes. He caresses your cheek, sweaty and disheveled in the dim light. Then your eyesight starts to blur. 

Your sight peels back, permitting warm sunlight basked over the bed. It takes a split second to notice you’re resting on pillows not nearly as comfortable as yours, and the wood paneling was uncharacteristic of your assigned room. It takes another second to notice your galled throat, stinging backside, and the arm loose on your naked waist. You peer over your shoulder, to that mop of ink sprawled on the pillow. He looks peaceful, though you’re not sure how you slept soundly when he snores like a brute. 

You slip from his arms to sit up. The floor’s freezing, but by the time you get to stand you’re pulled back into the covers. Entangled in limbs, you gaze at Toji, who still has his eyes closed. His face appears softened up close. There’s a small scar near his hairline that you hadn’t spotted. You trace the scar, outlining it to the one on his lip. He nips your finger. 

“I wanna sleep” he grumbles. 

“Then you should’ve let me leave” 

“No.” You card your fingers through his hair, and he sighs into it. A fine gray strand peaks out amongst the rest. “You’re turning gray, old man.” 

“The way I had you last night, I wouldn’t say ‘old man’.” Your remembrance makes your ears hot and you clasp a hand over his mouth. He laughs and pecks it, “You’re leaving today. Let’s get you packed up” he muffles. 

Little did he know, you’d talk to your father that afternoon, asking to stay for a couple more months. The countryside welcomed you—and what a humbling experience it was. 

© mooishbeam - please don't steal, copy, or post my work to other platforms :)

[parfaitblogs]

perfect night 𝜗𝜚 s. reid x reader

in which your boyfriend pays not enough attention to you when you especially need it. 

spencer reid x fem!reader. fluff. 0.5k words. established relationship. reader is (semi) drunk and wearing makeup.

a/n: wrote this in 45 minutes. you can tell. i have a super crazy weird condition where i have to write fluffy drunk!r x spencer every two weeks or else ill die. apparently. here’s a draft because i feel like i need to post but also i have nothing to post..

spencer reid who looks up when his door handle rattles at the late hour of three a.m., though concern is nowhere to be found in his body because he can hear giggles and incoherent mumbling from the other side. who pretends to be engrossed in his work when you finally stumble inside, humming of the last song you remember listening to — poker face? maybe. you're not too sure, actually. your lips wet from licking them too many times, the top of them stained from reapplying your lip liner in your phone camera while drunk — you cannot properly do it in that state. 

spencer reid who doesn't even flinch when you slur out a 'hiiii' and climb into his lap at his desk, and only wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest with an acknowledging hum. who looks over your shoulder as he continues to scribe away at the paper in front of him, while you kiss all over his neck. spencer reid who turns his attention to you when your index finger pokes into his shoulder, asking 'what's wrong, honey?'. who laughs at you when you huff that he isn't paying attention to you, before explaining that he 'needs to finish this case report'.

spencer reid who compromises that by the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, he will be done, and then he's all yours for the rest of the night. who laughs again when you very happily get off of him, and bounce towards the bathroom — you did crash into the wall right next to the door (he was concerned until you started laughing at yourself about it). who smiles when you return smelling less like alcohol and more like that body wash he oh-so loves, in his shirt which was another can of worms that had him smiling. 

who lets you climb back into his lap — now on the couch — and finally, finally pays you some proper attention. hands bunching the fabric of his shirt around your hips, staring at your still tipsy-induced grin. who traces circles on your hip bones and asks 'did you have a good night?'. who listens intently as you tell him everything that happened — or, as much as you can remember. which wasn't a lot, but he didn't seem to mind your long pauses and 'wait let me think's cutting up your explanation. 

spencer reid who waited until you confirmed you had finished telling him everything before he kissed you — an action you were sure he had wanted to do for awhile (he always waited until you had finished talking to kiss you. he refused to cut you off). who swallowed your laughter and randomised noises and huffs time and time again, until you were falling quiet and, eventually, limp. 

and spencer reid who must have taken you to bed when you fell asleep, because you woke up under blankets and to the smell of peppermint from the diffuser across the room for your head.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[alien-magnolia]

You Saved Me

Tw: logan howlett x fem!reader, domestics, description of childbirth/pregnancy, breeding knk, fem/mutant! reader, domestics, Logan being so caring <3 18+ MDNI

A/n: please support your creators and reblog if you love this content <3 xoxo, Liz

——-

You never believed in being absolutely crushed, enamored with someone just from one instance of meeting. Just from one glance. That never fell to be true. Until you met Logan.

He saved you from Striker’s Island, saved you from life in a cage, life as an experiment, carrying you off the grounds of the facility because you had a broken leg. He was so caring, so gentle, with you that day.

You sobbed as the bone in your leg bulged out, itching to relieve itself in the fresh air, away from the mess that was your thigh. “I know it hurts. Just hold on to me, yeah? Won’t let anything happen to you,” he consoles, his gruff voice and warm, heaving chest a comfort to you as the pain from your leg was asinine — slowly killing you.

He was gentle on the night you eloped, as well. The two of you fell enamored with each other in only a span of a few months. You needed each other to heal. The two of you spend some time away from the X-mansion, back in the outskirts of the Colorado mountains.

“Let me carry you over these rocks, bub. Don’t want you to strain yourself,” he chided at you, and once again, those strong, hairy arms you loved so much, picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you to the edge of the cliff. “It’s beautiful here, Logan,” you exclaim in quiet awe. “It’s nice. Private,” he replies, a large hand coming to cup your face. “You saved me, bub. After losing my brother, having all these god-fuckin’ awful memories. Had so much pain,” he sighs. “I know. You’re safe now, Lo,” your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him into a slow and chaste kiss.

—-

“Can’t! Can’t take it anymore — Lo!!,” you squealed, as his broad chest pressed up against your back, all the chest hair leaving marks on your back. His large hands cradling your front, occasionally squeezing at your plush tits, his grunts animalistic. “Doing so well, sweetheart. Taking me so well. Give me one more squeeze bub, I know you can,” he reassures, as you feel like you’re about to explode from his thick, eight inch cock ramming into you, over and over.

You’re in complete bliss as you feel his seed seeping into you. You were fertile. You were his. His claws come out as he finishes, almost touching your neck. He pulled them back quickly, checking if you were okay. “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re my moon, I’m your Wolverine,” he whispers, as he rolls you over onto your back, wiping you with a towel. He lays down next to you, cradling you on his big chest, in an almost paternal way.

You were safe, you were loved.

He continued being the softest, gentle, man that he could be, with you. Even when the both of you returned to the Mansion. He would constantly check in on you if you were teaching class, advising the students of how you gained control of your telepathy. He would always make sure you went to bed at a reasonable time, and that you wouldn’t over exert yourself while teaching.

His love and care for you was innately fierce, and it grew even more fervorous when you told him you were pregnant. You’ve never seen the man so happy.

He was insanely protective over you. He was your shadow, always around where you were. If another at the mansion even so simply looked at you, he would get defensive. “We got a problem here?,” he would ask, claws slowly inching out. They would shake their head quickly and walk away.

He would hold back your hair as you had morning sickness, constantly ill. He would tell you everything would be okay, as you gained a bit of weight, as your hormones raged out of control.

“What do you need, bub? Water? I can make you somethin’ to eat too, don’t hold out on me, now,” he asks, as he walks into your kitchen after a long day of working with Charles on a new project. You sniffle, “I never knew pregnancy would be this hard, Lo. I’m losing it.” “Hey. You’re still my moon, y’ know. You saved me, sweetheart. Still love ya just the same, even if you’re all heavy with my kid. It’s a new life we made,” he reassures, bringing you in to the safe haven of his chest again. You smile warmly, as he continues to hold you.

He was there with you for the birth. You were in so much pain, and he held you — every step of the way. When the infant was finally out, the three of you spent hours just laying together, having skin to skin contact. “My moon. Did so well f’me, sweetheart,” he tells you, as you have your infant laying on his chest, and your fingers gently touch his beard.

He saved you, after all.

A/n: I want this man in a very bad way, a very, very, very, very bad way. Screaming. References here are from original X men movie and X men origins: Wolverine.

[buttercuparry]

URGENT: 2 GAZAN GFM, EXTREMELY LOW ON FUNDS

Long post but I need your attention!!

I am here to bring attention to 2 fundraisers which have been stagnating for a long time.  I am generally wary of punching together more than one fundraiser in a post because more often than not, even if the textpost gets sufficiently boosted, with notes reaching upto 4k or above, there  isn’t really a difference made in the fundraisers themselves. But still I am attempting something here. Please cooperate and have the patience to completely read through to reach the poll at the end. That is the most important thing here !! If done right,we can truly help these gfms. We are attempting to raise at least 2k for each of the families and it would not be possible without your participation. 

1. Alaa Amsee, reblogged by 90-ghost , has been struggling with her gfm since May. With only 5.18% of her goal raised till now, Alaa has begun to despair. Alaa has 2 beautiful children- Maria and Hazem, both of whom have fallen sick due to lack of access to proper sanitation. Alaa herself has contracted Hepatitis A and is very weak, because she cannot keep down even the meager amount of food she has access to. The family is malnourished, starving, tired from fighting illnesses without access to medical care. On top of that- they are facing bombing in Deir al-Balah currently!! They have almost lost hope of finding any sort of help from the Tumblr community. Alaa says that Hazem, who is only 3 years old, has started to talk only of war, bombs and tanks. Please donate and help soothe the heart of a mother. 

2. Mohammad Iwais is an entrepreneur from Gaza, who once lived a beautiful life. But soon his nightmare began when his house was bombed in the genocide. Not only that, the occupation has also murdered 10 of his family members- his sister was on death’s door too, after being shot by a quadcopter bullet. Luckily she survived, but Mohammed knows that luck is a very fickle thing in Gaza and he cannot bear to lose any more of his family members. After the smear campaign against Gazans, Mohammad was worried. He was ( in fact he still is) ready to lose every facet of his privacy. He hates it, but says if this is how his humanity can be judged, then so be it.  Please don’t make him go through such humiliation. Help him evacuate himself and the rest of his family. You can find all relevant info on the vetting here.

On tumblr we often have events where we get to push the silly buttons. The site went wild on April fool boops and vanilla extract. I want you to show the same energy here too- this is about someone’s life. Remember we are trying to raise at least 2k for each of these gfm. Please click on the relevant  option after you donate/boost and mention the fundraiser falling behind in the polls. 

Boost the post so that it can reach people! It is important please! Make sure you donate too, if possible.

[the-tarot-witch22]

How your future spouse will confess his love for you - Pick a Pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

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Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you - 5 of swords, 7 of pentacles, judgement and the lovers)

Okay so pile 1, for some of you your future spouse will confess their out of nowhere like so casually you are doing chores, or taking a stroll and he will look at you and just say those three words, making you stumble upon crosswalk or you might have a coughing fit, they will be nervous but they will be putting effort like special dressing for you that day or more styled hair their will be hints for sure, you are like the only one for them, and they won't be letting you go, for some of you a scene where you both are extremely happy and you see each other and are like, okay we need to say that right now and that very moment, the moment will make you overwhelm you with positive emotions for your future spouse, the scenario could be you could be telling each other that on phone, party , grauduation or an event, doing daily things together, for some of you it could be a angry confession or you might like that of confessions like so angry, and you will be confessing i heard "damn it don't you see, what you mean to me, and who tf treats their friend this way", meaning one of you could be completely oblivious and a argument will lead to confession straight outta movie, for some you guys could be in car, or a trip, for some of you, This could also happen when you will be letting go of old past and things that are holding you back, the confession will be like so surety, you won't be second guessing their intentions, they will really mean when they say "i love you", it could also be one of you deciding should i say it first nah, like ego coming in between, like they should be the one saying it lol, some of you would not be able to wait and they will be confessing, i also see a night time or full moon. I also see lots of head pats it might be you or them that likes to do it to their loved ones!

That's all pile 1 this pile had so much energy and also undecisive so i end up picking variety of confession here! but anyways the pile is sweet, and seems like when they say it , they will actually mean it and they don't go around throwing these words to random! as they should! so let's go! wishing you luck when you meet them and they confess to you~

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you - 5 of cups, page of pentacles, 6 of wands, 10 of wands, ace of wands and the moon)

Okay so Pile 2 very interesting!This pile could also be overthinker or worry too much about stuff in general, but anyways on to the reading! So what i channel for this pile is for some of you guys, you would be going through a very or hard time or a depressed period of your life or overstressed period of your life, This could be because of work, family or friends situation, but your future spouse will be with you through hard time or not so hard time, reassuring you, but not majority for some of you, they could be reassuring but they will let you know their love, and you will realize it too, but you both or your fs would be wanting a more appropriate time for it, I also some of you could be ill or sick and then they are telling you, that they are in love with you, it will be like nobody will be ever have done that for you and when they do it, you will be quite shocked in a good way, knowing you have a man of your dreams, i also channel a scene where they are feeding you something and they will let you know how much you mean to them, and you will be asking "do you love me" and he says yes. and then the atmosphere becomes romantic than it is, so you will be thanking to be sick or ill, that it led to this, or you could be on some sort of picnic or garden when they confess to you, they will actually be quite creative for their confession, Okay so the majority of you i feel you guys would be getting freaky or physical lol, or it could be a kiss too, and between the make out session they are like in between breaths i love you, and you end up getting intimate with each other, and that's how the confession will go for you and them, after the confession they could be quite protective with you, like kissing you in public showing you two belong with each other, honestly? so freaking sweet, some of you it could be at a celebration or they could be asking you out, trying to be subtle, with you but failing lmao, you could be with intuition be able to figure out they are gonna do something, this pile could also have strong or at least good intuition, and your partner too, the confession will actually transform you both for better, or it could also mean you both will start something deeper with each other, more meaningful! I also channel a book store confession for some of you~

Okay so pile 2! Your pile honestly made me feel butterflies, like they are sweet and thoughtful, they would be 100% sure to win you over after their confession~, so happy for you guys, gave me such a energy boost!

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you - The emperor, page of swords, The hermit and the page of cups)

Okay pile 3, let's start with your reading, for some of you, your future spouse will go above and beyond to confess his love for you, like actually an expensive or luxurious confession, I channel a scene where you are on aeroplane and he tells you there while you are going to abroad, many of you will think this is unrealistic, but your future spouse is rich and he will definitely be telling it to you in his own way, and ykw? you guys deserve it! I also feel when the day he confess he is going to gift you a bouquet of flowers or especially red roses and big one at that, with the things you like, and that's how he tell how much he in love with you, and for some of you i channel a scene where you both will be mutually putting efforts with each other, and decide to tell to each other on the same day and IT'S honestly so sweet, i feel so warm and fuzzy while doing your reading guys, For some of you he could be preparing an art date for you both and he will tell you by writing or whispering it in your ears, for some of you , you guys would be embracing your future spouse and giving them a kiss on their cheek, saying it back to them, just like pile 1 you both can also confess on messenger or just online! and later decide to have a date for the special occasion, for some of you, you both could be taking space, to figure out stuff and then you both confess to each other! I also sense a photo album you could be prepring for them, or it's just you prefer to give something handmade to your loved ones! And honestly it's amazing , made me go awwww~!

That's all pile 3, your future spouse is definitely SOMETHING~ hehe, love that for you guys!

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[majikkulu]

✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ your  south  node  persona  chart  shows  a  deep  dive  into  your  past  life,  revealing  your  previous  personality,  karmic  lessons,  and  patterns  that  may  still  influence  you  in  this  lifetime.  

today,  we’re  going  to  explore  pluto  in  the  SNPC  by  house.  specifically,  how  it  might  hint  at  the  way  you  died  in  your  past  life.  death  and  reincarnation  have  always  fascinated  me,  so  i  thought  this  would  be  an  interesting  topic  to  discuss.  of  course,  i’m  not  a  professional  astrologer,  so  take  this  with  a  grain  of  salt!  

if  my  posts  resonate  with  you,  feel  free  to  like,  reblog,  and  follow  me  on  this  journey!  be  sure  to  explore  my  paid  reading  services  post  as  well  :)

✧˖°.₊  ♡  ✩˚  ༘

 ✩˚  ༘ pluto  is  the  planet  of  death,  rebirth,  and  karma,  making  it  a  key  player  in  past-life  astrology.  i’ve  noticed  how  strongly  it  resonates,  not  just  in  my  own  chart  but  also  in  readings  i’ve  done  for  others.  naturally,  aspects  can  modify  its  effects,  so  keep  that  in  mind.  

✩˚  ༘ for  example,  i  have  pluto  in  the  6th  house,  which  rules  health,  work,  and  daily  routines.  this  suggests  that  my  past-life  death  may  have  been  due  to  illness,  overwork,  or  a  condition  that  slowly  drained  my  strength.  something  incurable,  something  that  wore  me  down  over  time.  however,  i  also  have  mars  sextile  pluto,  which  could  mean  i  accepted  my  fate,  but  because  mars  is  a  violent  planet,  there’s  also  the  possibility  that  war  played  a  role  in  my  death.  still,  with  the  6th  house  focus,  i  lean  toward  exhaustion  or  a  chronic  illness  as  the  most  likely  cause. what’s  eerie  is  that  in  this  lifetime,  i  struggle  with  a  chronic  condition  that  requires  lifelong  care.

✩˚  ༘ now,  my  friend  has  pluto  in  the  4th  house,  which  strongly  connects  death  to  family,  home,  or�� early  life.  people  with  this  placement  may  have  died  young  or  experienced  a  fated  death.  one  tied  to  ancestral  karma,  family  curses,  or  even  genetic  conditions.  interestingly,  she  also  has  mars  square  pluto,  an  incredibly  intense  aspect.  some  astrologers  associate  this  with  violent  or  traumatic  deaths,  sometimes  even  at  the  hands  of  family  members.  domestic  violence,  family  betrayal,  or  rebellion  against  oppressive  family  dynamics  are  all  themes  that  can  show  up  here.   in  this  life,  she  struggles  with  her  family  in  a  way  that  feels  karmic.  like  she’s  trying  to  break  free  from  something  old,  something  deeply  ingrained.  she  feels  a  strong  urge  to  distance  herself.

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PLUTO  IN  1H  OF  SNPC   ﹑ ﹒ your  past-life  death  was  likely violent,  sudden,  and  deeply  personal.  you  may  have  been  someone  in  the  spotlight—wealthy,  influential,  or  commanding  attention—which  made  you  a  target  for jealousy,  rivalry,  and  betrayal.  your  death  could  have  been  an assassination,  an  act  of  revenge,  or  even  a  public  execution.  there’s  also  the  possibility  that  you  were  a warrior,  fighter,  or  someone  involved  in  dangerous  situations,  leading  to  a  fatal  accident  or  direct  attack.  reputation  and  physical  health  might  have  played  a  role  as  well—perhaps  illness  or  injury  weakened  you,  making  you  vulnerable.  your  existence  in  that  lifetime  likely  triggered  hostility  in  others,  and  your  death  may  have  been  an  attack  on  your  very  identity.  in  this  lifetime,  you  might  carry  an unconscious  fear  of  being  overexposed  or  too  visible,  leading  to  struggles  with power  dynamics  and  control.  you  may  find  yourself  in  situations  where  you  feel  the  need  to defend  your  identity,  set  strong  boundaries,  or  navigate  conflicts  related  to  dominance  and  authority.  there  could  be  an  underlying  sense  of  vulnerability,  as  if  being  seen  too  much  puts  you  at  risk.

﹒  ﹢  ♡.   PLUTO  IN  2H  OF  SNPC   ﹑  ﹒          your  past-life  death  was  likely  tied  to  money,  resources,  or  survival.  financial  struggles  could  have  played  a  major  role—starvation,  poverty,  or  extreme  deprivation  may  have  led  to  your  demise.  on  the  other  hand,  you  might  have  had  great  wealth,  but  it  became  your  downfall.  greed,  betrayal,  or  financial  disputes  could  have  been  fatal.  slavery,  forced  labor,  or  being  exploited  for  your  resources  are  also  possibilities  with  this  placement.  some  may  have  even  died  due  to  poisoning,  orchestrated  by  someone  seeking  inheritance  or  financial  gain.  your  past-life  death  likely  involved  a  deep  sense  of  instability,  scarcity,  or  material  loss,  leaving  a  karmic  imprint  on  your  soul.  in  this  lifetime,  you  may  struggle  with  fear  of  poverty,  financial  insecurity,  or  difficulty  trusting  others  with  money.  you  could  have  an  intense  attachment  to  your  possessions,  feeling  the  need  to  protect  and  control  your  resources  at  all  costs.  sharing  might  feel  risky,  and  you  may  have  a  subconscious  fear  of  being  taken  advantage  of.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   3H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒     your  past-life  death  was  deeply  connected  to  communication,  knowledge,  and  intellect.  you  may  have  been  silenced,  executed,  or  punished  for  speaking  the  truth,  exposing  secrets,  or  having  radical  ideas  that  others  deemed  dangerous.  perhaps  you  were  labeled  as  mentally  unstable,  rebellious,  or  a  threat  to  those  in  power.  there’s  also  a  strong  link  to  travel-related  deaths—you  may  have  died  in  a  carriage  accident,  on  the  road,  or  while  delivering  an  important  message.  conflict  with  siblings,  extended  family,  or  close  acquaintances  could  have  played  a  role  in  your  demise.  some  with  this  placement  might  have  even  died  due  to  strangulation,  suffocation,  or  an  attack  meant  to  silence  them  permanently.  in  this  lifetime,  you  might  have  a  deep-rooted  fear  of  expressing  yourself.  you  may  instinctively  hold  back  your  thoughts,  struggle  with  trust,  or  feel  anxious  about  speaking  up.  there  could  be  a  lingering  sense  that  your  words  could  lead  to  your  downfall,  betrayal,  or  danger.  paranoia  surrounding  communication  and  secrecy  might  be  common,  making  you  naturally  cautious  about  who  you  confide  in.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   4H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒      you  may  have  died  in  your  own  home.  perhaps  due  to  a  house  fire,  home  invasion,  or  even  at  the  hands  of  a  family  member.  this  placement  can  indicate  ancestral  curses  or  generational  karma,  meaning  your  death  may  have  been  part  of  a  larger  cycle  of  suffering  within  your  lineage.  some  with  this  placement  may  have  died  young,  possibly  due  to  natural  disasters,  illness,  or  tragic  circumstances  linked  to  their  family  environment.  in  some  cases,  this  can  indicate  a  life  where  your  home  was  not  a  place  of  safety  but  rather  a  source  of  pain,  danger,  or  betrayal.  in  this  lifetime,  you  might  struggle  with  feeling  truly  at  home,  both  physically  and  emotionally.  you  could  have  difficult  or  karmic  relationships  with  family  members,  feeling  unwanted,  disconnected,  or  like  an  outsider  in  your  own  home.  there  may  be  hidden  family  secrets,  unspoken  truths,  or  a  sense  that  something  is  being  concealed  from  you.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   5H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒      you  may  have  died  due  to  a  love  affair  gone  wrong,  possibly  as  a  result  of  jealousy,  betrayal,  or  even  execution  for  forbidden  love.  this  placement  can  also  indicate  death  tied  to  gambling,  dangerous  risks,  or  reckless  behavior. perhaps  you  lost  everything  in  a  game  of  chance,  or  your  thrill-seeking  tendencies  led  to  fatal  consequences.  for  some,  this  could  point  to  dying  during  childbirth,  as  the  5th  house  rules  children  and  fertility.  there’s  a  dramatic,  almost  theatrical  quality  to  this  past  death. you  may  have  died  while  performing,  entertaining,  or  in  a  moment  of  high  passion  and  excitement.  whatever  happened,  it  was  intense,  public,  and  deeply  emotional.  in  this  lifetime,  you  might  struggle  with  fully  embracing  joy,  self-expression,  or  romantic  vulnerability.  there  could  be  a  fear  of  love,  intimacy,  or  taking  risks,  as  if  part  of  you  remembers  how  it  once  led  to  tragedy.  creative  blocks,  performance  anxiety,  or  feeling  unable  to  freely  express  yourself  may  also  be  common.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   6H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒       your  past-life  death  was  likely  connected  to  health,  work,  or  physical  exhaustion.  you  may  have  died  from  an  incurable  illness,  with  the  process  being  slow  and  painful.  there’s  a  possibility  that  you  succumbed  to  an  epidemic  or  poisoning,  either  from  someone’s  malice  or  due  to  the  harsh  conditions  you  endured.  it’s  also  possible  that  you  worked  in  medicine,  war,  or  under  challenging  circumstances.  perhaps  in  a  physically  demanding  environment.  where  your  health  gradually  deteriorated  over  time.  the  nature  of  your  work  or  environment  may  have  taken  a  heavy  toll  on  your  body.  in  this  lifetime,  you  might  struggle  with  chronic  illness,  hypersensitivity  around  health,  or  an  intense  fear  of  physical  decline.  there  could  be  an  underlying  sense  of  vulnerability  related  to  your  body  and  well-being.  perfectionism  and  the  tendency  to  overwork  yourself  may  stem  from  a  deep-rooted  fear  of  failure  or  a  need  to  prove  yourself.  you  may  also  have  natural  healing  abilities,  drawn  to  working  in  healing  professions  or  offering  comfort  to  others.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   7H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒       you  may  have  been  murdered  by  a  partner,  lover,  or  someone  close  to  you.  whether  out  of  jealousy,  betrayal,  or  revenge.  your  death  could  have  been  the  result  of  a  duel  over  love,  honor,  or  justice,  or  perhaps  poisoned  by  someone  you  trusted.  marriage  or  romantic  relationships  in  your  past  life  may  have  been  political,  forced,  or  tragically  ended. perhaps  you  were  punished  for  love,  adultery,  or  seeking  revenge.  there  may  have  been  a  significant  power  imbalance  or  emotional  conflict  that  led  to  your  demise.  in  this  lifetime,  you  might  attract  intense,  karmic  relationships  that  push  you  to  confront  deep-seated  fears  or  wounds  related  to  betrayal,  trust,  and  power  dynamics.  there  could  be  a  lingering  fear  of  being  hurt,  abandoned,  or  deceived  by  those  closest  to  you.  you  may  experience  challenging  relationship  patterns,  often  feeling  as  though  you’re  repeating  cycles  of  emotional  intensity  or  conflict.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   8H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒         your  death  could  have  been  murderous,  a  ritual  sacrifice,  or  part  of  a  dark  karmic  pattern,  possibly  linked  to  assassination,  magic,  or  betrayal  at  a  deeply  personal  level.  there  may  have  been  involvement  with  secret  societies,  occult  practices,  or  financial  scandals,  all  contributing  to  the  secrecy  and  power  struggles  that  ultimately  led  to  your  demise.  your  death  may  have  been  violent,  and  the  circumstances  surrounding  it  could  have  been  part  of  a  larger  power  play  or  revenge.  it  could  have  been  the  result  of  deep  betrayal  by  someone  you  trusted  or  an  event  that  took  place  in  the  shadows  of  secrecy  and  manipulation.  you  might  have  been  a  powerful  figure  who  was  eliminated  to  remove  a  threat.  in  this  lifetime,  you  may  have  a  deep  fear  of  the  unknown,  but  also  a  magnetic  attraction  to  it.  there  could  be  an  inner  pull  towards  mysticism,  the  occult,  or  hidden  knowledge.  areas  that  are  simultaneously  fascinating  and  terrifying.  you  might  also  possess  strong  psychic  abilities,  yet  feel  afraid  to  tap  into  them,  possibly  due  to  subconscious  memories  of  past-life  experiences.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   9H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒         you  might  have  died  while  on  a  journey,  possibly  during  a  pilgrimage,  or  as  a  result  of  religious  conflict.  your  death  could  have  been  executed  due  to  holding  different  beliefs. whether  they  were  religious,  philosophical,  or  cultural. or  you  may  have  perished  due  to  the  crusades,  holy  wars,  or  other  battles  fought  over  differing  ideologies.  it’s  also  possible  that  you  died  in  a  shipwreck  or  from  an  unknown  disease  while  far  from  home,  navigating  unfamiliar  territory.  in  this  lifetime,  you  are  likely  someone  with  strong  convictions  and  a  deep  desire  for  knowledge.  you  may  be  very  intelligent,  wise,  and  driven  by  a  quest  for  understanding  the  world  around  you.  however,  you  might  carry  religious  trauma  or  fear  of  judgment,  possibly  due  to  past-life  experiences  where  your  beliefs  were  punished  or  misunderstood.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   10H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒    you  could  have  died  due  to  a  public  downfall,  possibly  through  a  public  execution  or  assassination.  you  might  have  been  someone  with  significant  power.  such  as  a  king,  queen,  or  ruler.  who  was  overthrown,  betrayed,  or  punished  for  ambition.  your  death  could  have  been  the  result  of  being  falsely  accused,  executed  in  front  of  a  crowd,  or  violently  removed  from  power  due  to  political  intrigue  or  revenge.  in  this  lifetime,  you  are  likely  someone  who  has  a  strong  drive  for  success,  ambition,  and  the  desire  to  make  an  impact  on  the  world.  you  may  feel  a  deep  need  to  protect  your  public  image  and  be  drawn  to  leadership  roles  where  you  can  make  a  name  for  yourself.  this  can  be  a  karmic  pattern.  wanting  to  be  seen  as  someone  important,  powerful,  or  influential.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   11H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒      you  may  have  been  betrayed  by  those  you  trusted  or  lost  your  life  while  challenging  societal  norms.  your  death  could  have  been  the  result  of  group  conflicts,  possibly  during  a  revolution  or  activist  movement  where  you  fought  for  social  change  or  justice.  you  might  have  been  someone  who  rebelled  against  the  system,  standing  up  for  what  you  believed  in,  only  to  face  violence  or  sacrifice  as  a  consequence.  in  this  lifetime,  you  may  feel  like  an  outsider.  someone  who  struggles  to  fit  in  with  traditional  groups  or  social  circles.  you  might  carry  a  deep  mistrust  towards  friendships,  perhaps  from  past-life  betrayals,  and  feel  a  desire  to  change  society  or  speak  up  for  causes  but  also  a  fear  of  the  consequences  of  doing  so.

﹒   ﹢   ♡.    PLUTO   IN   12H   OF   SNPC    ﹑   ﹒       you  may  have  died  in  a  mental  institution,  possibly  due  to  mental  illness  or  overwhelming  internal  battles.  your  death  could  have  been  mysterious,  unnoticed,  or  even  erased  from  history,  leaving  you  to  pass  away  alone  in  physical  or  emotional  isolation.  you  might  have  been  someone  who  engaged  in  self-destructive  behaviors  or  suffered  in  silence,  leading  to  a  tragic  and  forgotten  end.  in  this  lifetime,  you  may  carry  unconscious  fears  or  psychic  sensitivity,  as  well  as  a  deep  inner  knowing.  you  could  have  a  strong  intuition  or  a  sense  of  being  drawn  to  the  mystical,  occult,  or  unknown  realms.  there  might  be  a  subconscious  fear  of  isolation  or  abandonment,  echoing  the  loneliness  of  your  past-life  death.

[misswynters]

Winter’s Embrace — Chapter One

Cregan Stark x targaryen fem!reader

[synopsis: You arrive at winterfell, you feel unwelcomed and like an outsider. You weren’t used to not customs of the north.

[a/n: i know, it’s always a targaryen princess switch it up! (pls this is my first time ever writing) and there’s barely any cregan x readers.

[word count: 2.5k?

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

next chapter |

Winterfell loomed on the horizon, its grey stone walls blending seamlessly with the winter landscape. As your carriage approached the gates, you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cold but from the uncertainty of what awaited you within those ancient walls. The North was a world away from the warm sands and fiery skies of King's Landing, where you had spent most of your life. Here, you were not just a stranger but a princess—a dragon in a land of wolves.

The carriage came to a halt, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. The door opened, and a gust of icy wind greeted you. Wrapping your cloak tightly around your shoulders, you stepped out into the courtyard, your breath visible in the frigid air. The guards watched you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, their eyes lingering a bit too long.

Cregan Stark, who’s the Warden of the North, stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, his imposing figure framed by the heavy wooden doors. He was a tall man with dark hair and piercing grey eyes that seemed to see straight through you. As you approached, he stepped forward, his expression one of polite interest.

“Princess,” he greeted you, his voice deep and resonant. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

"Thank you, Lord Stark" you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality."

He nodded, his gaze not wavering. "I hope you find Winterfell to your liking, though I fear it may not be as comfortable as the South."

You forced a smile. "I am sure it will be an adjustment, but nevertheless i will get used to it"

The Great Hall was bustling with activity as servants hurried about, preparing for the evening meal. The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the cold outside, but it did little to dispel the feeling of being an outsider. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the whispered conversations that fell silent as you passed.

Cregan led you to your chambers, a modest but well-appointed room with a large bed and a roaring fire. "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask," he said, his tone formal.

"Thank you, My lord," you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he simply nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

The days that followed were a blur of introductions and attempts to settle into a routine. The people of Winterfell were polite but distant, their mistrust evident in their eyes. You tried to make yourself useful, helping where you could, but it seemed that no matter what you did, you were always viewed as an dragon in a wolves den.

Cregan was kind but distant, his duties keeping him busy. He checked in on you regularly, making sure you were comfortable, but there was an unspoken tension between you. You sensed that he believed you were ill-suited for the harsh realities of the North, a delicate flower from the South who would wilt in the cold.

One evening, as you sat by the fire in your chambers, lost in thought, there was a knock at the door. “Enter,” you called, expecting one of the servants.

To your surprise, it was Cregan. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I hope I am not disturbing you," he said.

"Not at all," you replied, gesturing for him to sit. "Please, join me."

He took a seat opposite you, the firelight casting shadows on his chiseled features. "I wanted to see how you are adjusting," he said. "I know this must be difficult for you.

You sighed, staring into the flames. "It is. But I am trying to accustomed to the way everything is done here."

He nodded, his gaze intense. "You are stronger than you appear, Princess. I see that."

You looked at him, surprised by his words. "Thank you, Lord Stark. That means a lot."

For a moment, there was a silence between you, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Then, Cregan spoke again, his voice softer. "I understand that you are a dragon dreamer."

Your heart skipped a beat. It was not something you spoke of often, the gift—or curse—that you carried. "Yes," you admitted. "I have dreams of dragons and the future."

He leaned forward, his eyes searching yours. "Do you trust your dreams?"

You hesitated, then nodded. "I do. They have never led me astray."

Cregan seemed to consider this, then leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps, in time, you will find your place here. The North is a harsh land, but it can also be a place of great beauty and strength."

You smiled, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I hope so, Lord Stark. I truly do."

As the days passed, you began to find small ways to integrate yourself into the life of Winterfell. You helped in the kitchens, learning the recipes and customs of the North. You spent time with the children, telling them stories of dragons and far-off lands. Slowly, the walls began to come down, and you felt a sense of belonging start to take root.

Cregan was a constant presence, his support and encouragement a source of strength. He seemed to understand the struggle you faced, the weight of expectations and the challenge of finding your place in a world that was not your own. There were moments when you caught glimpses of the man beneath the lord—the kindness in his eyes, the warmth of his smile.

One day, as you were walking through the courtyard, a group of women approached you. Their leader, an older woman with a stern expression, looked you up and down. "Princess," she said, her tone respectful but cold. "We have heard much about you."

You nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety in your stomach. "I hope it has been good."

The woman shrugged. "Some good, some not. But actions speak louder than words. We will see what kind of woman you truly are."

You smiled, determined to prove yourself. "I hope I can earn your respect."

Cregan watched from a distance, his heart swelling with pride as he saw you stand your ground. He knew the road ahead would not be easy, but he had no doubt that you were strong enough to walk it.

One night, as the storm raged outside, you found yourself unable to sleep. The dreams had been coming more frequently, visions of dragons and fire, of a future shrouded in darkness. You threw on a cloak and made your way to the Great Hall, seeking solace in the warmth of the fire.

To your surprise, Cregan was there, staring into the flames. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

You shook your head, joining him by the hearth. "No. The dreams..."

He nodded, understanding. "Tell me about them."

You hesitated, then began to speak, the words flowing out of you like a river. You told him of the dragons, of the visions of a future both beautiful and terrifying. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Those are just visions, what matters is how you act upon them and not let them get to your head” he said in a soft tone.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Cregan."

He smiled, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "You are stronger than you know, Princess. And I am proud to stand by your side."

The days turned into weeks, and the snow outside showed no signs of abating. Within Winterfell, you began to find your place. You helped in the kitchens, worked alongside the maids, and even joined the training sessions in the yard. Slowly, the people began to see you not as an outsider, but as someone willing to share their burdens.

Cregan watched with growing admiration. One evening, as you sat by the hearth, he joined you, his presence a comfort in the cold.

"You've done well," he said, his voice warm.

You looked up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "Thank you. It hasn't been easy."

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. "Nothing worth having ever is."

The thaw began slowly, both outside and within the hearts of Winterfell's people. The Northmen, once so wary, started to see you in a different light. Your actions, your kindness, and your determination had begun to win them over.

One day, as you helped prepare for a feast, one of the older women approached you. "You've done well, lass," she said, her voice gruff but not unkind. "You've proven yourself."

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I’m glad i was able to prove myself." Cregan, watching from across the room, felt a surge of pride.

[irlplasticlamb]

could you show us your favorite art you have done for each fandom(succession, the bear, hotd, iwtv,etc)? i’m sorry if it’s too much, i tought it would be cool 😭

gladly!

it’s hard for me to choose just one (not in the “oh i’m SOOOOO GOOD AT ART LOOK AT ME” way but i just really like some ideas/composition choices i had for these pieces!) forgive me hahah

asoiaf:

LOVE the composition so much i think i peaked here

genuinely like how i conveyed aegon’s despair and pain in this one! also the colour palette is great with his wounds being so very prominent

again this one’s just SO full of sorrow and grief! i love to include religious motives in my art! plus the border looks very cool i think the symbolism is really poignant in this one!

house md:

i’m not sure if i would’ve used this colour palette if i did this piece nowadays but i LOVE the composition and all the little details. that’s my favourite mentally ill doctor out here!!

the bear:

the first one, i just think it’s so simple but the little halo thing does it for me. the second one i really like the colours, the contrast between the deep blue and almost gold-ish yellow is fun. also syd looks so baby girl <3

succession:

nothing beats “weak dog roman roy” imagery to me. i love that man to pieces, probably one of my favourite characters of all times. i miss doing roro art, might draw some stuff of him soon!!!

arcane:

unusual colour palette that i really love, it’s just so intense. also the composition is good and i love all the little details i put in this piece

will probably never do anything as deeply symbolic as this one. jayvik worms did me good

i will add more in a reblog because i can’t add more pictures LOL

[seunmong-in]

🌅Sunsets in Sydney🌅

Genre: Fluff, childhood best friend to lovers, Idol! Felix x Reader, Humor, slight cursing, she fell first but he fell harder. 

Words: 2.1k 

Summary: After being on tour for a whole year, Felix is finally back in Sydney for a well-deserved break. While he is ecstatic to be with his family again, there’s one person who he wants to see most. His childhood best friend and crush, Y/N. 

A/n: Okay, can I start this off by saying, Holy crap… Thank you to all who like or reblogged my first fanfic with Han!! ( click his name if you wanna read it ! ) I honestly thought it wasn’t that good since I wrote it in a very sleep-deprived state, lol. But y’all proved me wrong🥹❤️‍🩹 That said, I hope you guys also like this story with Felix! Like always, if you have any feedback or want to make a special request just DM me!! Here’s also my latest one with Seungmin as well 🫶🏼

P.S Does anyone else have “that’s not very nice” stuck in their head too?

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365 days. 

That's how long Felix has been away from the place he calls home. And no, he doesn't mean his actual home back in Sydney. He means being away from his childhood best friend, Y/n. 

Felix and Y/n have been best friends since grade school. They have always been there for each other, from performing in talent shows to caring for each other when one falls ill. They are like two peas in a pod; wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow.

On the day Felix had to tell Y/n that he was leaving Sydney to become an idol in Korea, he broke down crying. He was worried that being thousands of miles away from his closest friend would strain their relationship. As he was about to board the plane, he turned around to see Y/n waving goodbye to him with tears streaming down her face, and he couldn't help but cry, too.

Surprisingly, Felix and Y/n's friendship didn't end after that day. Instead, their bond grew even stronger. Y/N would constantly update Felix through text or calls, sharing the details of her day and making sure he didn't miss out on anything important. While Felix enjoyed receiving these updates, what he loved most was the pictures his mom would send him of Y/n with his family on small family trips. Seeing her smile and taking selfies with his sisters always warmed his heart.

He had already surpassed the stage of simply developing feelings for Y/n. Felix adored her. He loved her. Whenever he watched a video of a couple on TikTok or Instagram, he imagined how to recreate the same videos with Y/n by his side. His heart skipped when Y/n surprised him at one of his earlier concerts with Olivia and Hannah, Chan's sister. The memory of her dancing his part of God's Menu while Hannah danced Chan's part on the big screen was something he would never forget. Since that night, Felix had been planning to confess his love to Y/n, and he decided to do it under the sunset in Sydney.

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Under the hot summer sun, Felix's freckled face is lit up with a big smile as his family rushes to greet him. Olivia is the first to embrace him, screaming, "Oh my God, do you even know how I miss you, Lix?!"

Felix laughed, embracing his youngest sister and repeating, "I miss you more." He noticed that Olivia had grown a bit since the last time he saw her and that her hair was now dyed at the ends. Noticing her brother staring at her hair, Olivia mentioned that Y/N did it a few days ago at one of their usual girls' nights. His mom and dad were the next two to hug him tightly, with his mom shedding a few happy tears.

"I say this every time, but I am so happy to have my baby back home."

Felix wraps his arms around his mom, hugging her as he says, "I am happy to be back home to Mom."

Felix was sitting in the back of a car, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Y/n. He was waiting for her message, asking if he had reached home safely, but he had yet to receive any message from her. Although this was unusual, he assumed she might be busy.

Suddenly, Olivia abruptly interrupts Felix's train of thought, "So, are you finally going to ask Y/n to be your girlfriend while you're here, or are we still sticking to the whole 'she's just my best friend' excuse?" The unexpected question catches Felix off guard. His face turns red with embarrassment as his mother turns her head around from the passenger seat, waiting for a response.

Avoiding eye contact with his mother and sister, Felix clears his throat, allowing himself to find the right words.

"Um.. what makes you think I even have feelings for her?"

Olivia stares at her older brother, scolding him with his earlier response, "Felix be so fucking for real right now. It's obvious you have feelings for Y/n. You look at her as if she is your whole world, your face lights up with a smile whenever she texts you, and you always seem to find a way to talk about her when we talk on the phone. If that doesn't scream, "I am in love with my best friend," then I don't know what does. Oh, and before you go and argue with me about this, even the boys agree that you are completely strung up on her. So do us all a favor and tell her how you feel, will you?"

Felix sighs as he looks up to see his sister's gaze. He knew he had to come clean now before his plans got ruined. 

"Have I mentioned how much I dislike you sometimes, Liv?"

"Yeah, but I'm your favorite sister, so start spilling before I call Hyunjin and have him tell Y/n to you." 

During the last five minutes of their car ride, Felix confided in his family about his plan to ask Y/n out when they reached the house. He made them promise not to say anything to Y/n about his plan since he wanted to create a memorable and private moment between them.

As Felix's father pulled into the driveway, Felix noticed Y/n's car parked across the street. His heart raced as he jumped out of the car, ignoring his mother's yelling about not going inside yet. 

Felix barges through the main door and stops when he sees the handmade "Welcome Home Lixie" banner that Y/n was struggling to put up. He chuckles softly and leans by the living room doorway, watching as she gets on her tiptoes to hook the string onto the nail.

"You know, I could've helped you put up the banner, sunshine if you would've waited a little longer."

Y/n turns around to find Felix smirking. Blushing, she runs to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Trying not to cry on his shoulders, Y/n ever so softly whispers, "You have no idea how much I missed your hugs, Lix."

"Me too, sunshine, it's been way too long."

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After returning home and having dinner early, Felix went upstairs to his room. There, he discovered a welcome-home basket in the center of his bed. The basket contained his favorite candies, face masks, a small chicken plushie, and gift cards to his preferred places. Felix smiled, realizing that it was a gift from Y/n. She was always the type to spoil others with gifts, even if it was a small occasion. Looking through the gifts in the basket, he heard a soft knock on the door, and Y/n walked in. When Felix looked up at her, they locked eyes for the second time that day. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and after a while, Y/n was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you like it; I saw it on Tiktok late last night and thought I should make you one."

"I love it a lot; thank you, sunshine." 

He gives her a soft smile and motions for her to sit with him on the bed. She walks over and sits beside him, watching him unwrap more gifts. Y/n can't help but laugh as Felix brings the chicken plushie up to his face, jokingly asking, "Do you think it looks like me?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I feel like I am going betray BbokAri, so I must lie and say no."

Felix and Y/n laugh as Felix places the plushie back on the shelf behind him. The room lights up in a golden hue, indicating the sun is about to set. Without wasting more time, Felix takes Y/n's hand and leads her out of his room and towards his car.

"Lix, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I was hoping we could watch the sunset together again, just like we did as kids. It's been quite some time since the last time we did, and let's face it, we're not getting any younger. Before we know it, we'll be as old as old man Chan."

""I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, laughing as she follows him to his car. They both jump in and drive to the nearby beach.

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As the car pulled onto the sandy shore, Felix practically flew out of his side to open the door for Y/n. She beamed with delight as she stepped out, feeling the warm sand under her toes. Felix swiftly closed the car door and took her hand, leading her towards the beach. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues as the sun descended below the horizon.

"I forgot how pretty the sunset could be when you can see the reflection on the water."

"I know, but it's even prettier with you beside me," Felix responds. 

Y/n stands before Felix, unsure if he is joking or serious. He chuckles as she becomes flustered.

"You know that's not very nice."

"What isn't sunshine?"

"You saying that to me and not explaining what you mean," Y/n states as she turns away from him. 

Felix grabs Y/n by her waist and spins her, holding her close. Y/n's face flushes a deep shade of pink as she catches her breath. They've been close for years, but something feels different about this moment. There's a palpable tension in the air, a feeling of unspoken love that's hard to ignore. Felix looks deep into Y/n's eyes, examining how the sun's warm glow illuminates them. The sound of waves crashing against the shore adds to the moment's magic. Fighting the urge to kiss her immediately, Felix takes a deep breath as he stares into her eyes. 

"Do you remember why I decided to return home for a break instead of staying in the dorms with the boys?" Puzzled by his random question, Y/n nods her head, looking back into his dark brown eyes. 

"Of course I do. It was because you wanted to be with your family since you were homesick, Lix."

"You're right. But there's something important that I need to tell you, something that should've been said from the very beginning. Y/n, I like you. I'm in love with you. I love you so much that it hurts not to have you by my side most days or even to call you mine. The night before I left Sydney, I intended to confess my feelings to you, but I knew it was bad timing since I was leaving, and I didn't want to end our friendship. So, I kept it to myself for years. However, seeing you with Liv and Hannah at our concert earlier this year, dancing and singing to our songs, made me realize that what I felt for you was more than just a simple grade school crush. Y/n, I'd be lying if I said you weren't the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because I do. I want you to be mine, my only sunshine. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand..."

Felix was toward the end of his sentence when Y/n suddenly cut him off by pressing her lips against his. It was a bold move, but she had been crushing on Felix for what felt like an eternity and couldn't hold back any longer. When they finally pulled away, Felix looked at Y/n with a knowing smile, pressing his forehead on hers. In a very soft voice, Felix finally finishes his sentence. 

"I cannot imagine spending a single day without you by my side anymore. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be mine forever?

""Until forever stops existing, my love."